My Summer Breeze Will Bring Me Home
by dr.Tea
Summary: WW2!AU, Pilot!Rocinante x Pilot!Doflamingo. The two brothers are pilots in the RAF. But who will break, and who won't?
1. Prologue

**My summer breeze**

**will bring me**

**home **

_**Rocinante **__x __**Doflamingo **_

Summary; WW2!AU, Pilot!Rocinante x Pilot!Doflamingo. The two brothers are pilots in the RAF. But who will break, and who won't?

Warnings; Rated M for - Incest, Smut, Blood, Death, War, Mental disorders.

Word count; (In progress) I'm not sure how long this story will be, but I do have a mind to write a pretty long fiction. Depends on how many readers I get, I suppose.

_If you read my stories, please be kind and leave me a review._

_ Prologue will be updated when the story is complete _


	2. Chapter 1

**My summer breeze**

**will bring me**

**home **

_**Rocinante **__x __**Doflamingo **_

**Chapter 1**

_October 13th 1939_

_ London, England_

Heavy, merciless rain drummed against the windows of the houses of London. The sound, however, did not reach into the cozy livingroom, where a young man was trapped in his mother's warm hug. Her smooth, blonde hair tickled his neck, and for that short moment, he felt like he never wanted to leave her arms. She soon let go of him, and the moment was lost. The call of duty returned to his mind, and he smiled proudly.

He looked very good in his uniform, which he had worn a lot already, just to flirt with pretty girls. His father put his hands on his son's broad shoulders. His kind eyes said more than words ever could.

_Come home again, son. _

_ Your mother and I are so very proud of you._

He had feared that his father would cry, which probably would've made himself tear up. Even though Doflamingo, the oldest son in the Donquixote family never cried.

"Promise you will take care of Roci." His mother said, quietly. The faint sound of the rain almost drowned her voice, but Doflamingo had heard. "Doflamingo, promise." She looked straight at him, blue eyes, which were about to water up with tears. Right at him, right through his mind. But she couldn't see him. She couldn't see how much these words affected him. He had been waiting for them all day, and he had thought he was prepared, but he wasn't.

"I promise." His words rang hollow to him, but to his mother, they were real, and they made her cry. He watched as the tears trailed down her cheeks, and he thought that he hated to see her like this.

"It's time we left." He said, and turned around pretty quickly so that they wouldn't see his face. As soon as he was out in the hallway, where he was sure they couldn't see, he rubbed his eyes. The responsibility weighed heavy in his chest. But that wasn't the reason why his breath was shallow, threatening to betray him, and make him show what he really felt.

Two neatly packed suitcases, looking completely identical was put out in the hallway. The only difference between them was the name tag. On one of them, the name '_Doflamingo Donquixote' _was written, with professional handwriting, like the one who had done the writing was a well educated man, who could've been a lawyer, or maybe even a politician. The other case had a completely different tag. The name was hard to read, like it was written by an eight-year old, or someone even younger. '_Rocinante Donquixote'_ it said, though Doflamingo doubted anyone who didn't know the owner the suitcase would be able to read the cryptic letters.

His eyes rested on the suitcases for a moment, as he gathered himself back together. His posture became strict-looking, fit for a soldier. Yes, an officer even.

The stairs creaked with a disturbing sound when he walked up them. Though, the sound was welcoming, and would give away his presence. Hopefully, his brother would understand that it was time to leave.

When one looked at the door, leading into Rocinante, one would think that the younger brother was around the age of ten. One would also think that he was the youngest sister, instead of brother. The reason was the deformed, pink heart painted on the door. Doflamingo had always wondered why their parents hadn't made a bigger deal about Rocinante painting something so ugly looking on the door.

He didn't bother to knock before he entered.

Rocinante was sitting on the bed, which hadn't been made. His uniform had never been worn before, and though Doflamingo could only see his back, he thought his slender form looked more masculine.

"Come on, we're leaving." Doflamingo didn't mean to sound so cold, he really didn't. He loved his brother, and of course, he would do everything to keep him safe. But that didn't change the fact that his mother's words were still echoing in his head. And that only lead to the inevitable thought, the thought that so often crossed his mind - _Mother loves him more than me._

Rocinante made no move. Nothing about his posture changed, like he hadn't even heard his brother's words. But Doflamingo knew he had.

"Come on." He repeated, softer this time, and crossed the floor to put a hand on the other's shoulder. Still he got no reaction.

His face was blank, but there were clear signs that he had been crying. Doflamingo frowned. Why did his little brother always have to cry? It was pathetic, and not suited for a man. He had to focus not to get annoyed, he had to remember how hard this had to be for Rocinante. From what he had seen, it didn't seem like the younger had the same sense of responsibility and pride which Doflamingo wore on his sleeves at all times. Rocinante just wanted to stay home with their parents. He tried to relate to that. He tried to understand, but it was impossible.

"You look good, blue really suits you." He tried. Compliments were an excellent weapon when Rocinante spaced out. His brother's face heated up, and a pink blush spread across his pale cheeks. His lips curved up in a smile, and he turned his head to look at the other.

His reactions to compliments were another thing about him that Doflamingo found weird, and sometimes, a little embarrassing. It didn't matter who it was that complimented him, he would always blush. Sometimes, the idiot would start blushing for no reason, and when Doflamingo had acquired after why this was, Rocinante had explained that he had flattered himself in his mind. So, he was even able to make himself go red.

"Now, come on. Put on your hat, your hair looks a mess. We'll have to get it cut." Rocinante's hair always looked like a storm had happened on just his head, or like a bird had wanted to make that its nest. His bangs were just long enough to reach in front of his eyes, which had to be annoying. But Rocinante had expressed countless of times that he didn't want to get a haircut.

Doflamingo's own hair wasn't as short as it should be, but in return, it was neatly slicked back, which brought his handsome features into light.

Despite how different they acted, and thought, Doflamingo knew that they were more alike than anybody believed. If Rocinante slicked his hair back, and let go of that silly, soft smile he usually wore, they would look almost identical. Only a few inches separated them in height, making Doflamingo the taller one. It was true, the older brother had a stronger body, but Rocinante was no stickfigure.

Rocinante didn't argue about the haircut this time. Instead, he obeyed, and put on the uniform hat. Blond hair pointed in every direction from under it, but it looked a little bit better at least.

"Good, now let's go."

To anyone unassociated with the Donquixote family, it would seem odd that Rocinante said so little. But Doflamingo was used to it. The fact was that his brother said very little. He had never understood why that was, and it annoyed him sometimes, but all in all, he was used to it. He hadn't heard his brother's voice today.

"Doffy." Rocinante said, his voice wasn't weak or scared. But it was serious. Doflamingo gave him time to decide on what to say.

Hearing his brother talk was something he secretly loved. He loved the fact that Rocinante hardly ever talked to anyone, but sometimes, he would offer him a short conversation. Nobody got as many words out of Rocinante as him. And his voice was so calming and gentle, unlike his own dark, slightly raspy one.

"Mother loves you."

That wasn't what he had expected. Not even close. He was taken aback, and his face gave away his surprise, and Rocinante could easily see how much the words affected his older brother. Doflamingo's bottom lip trembled for a single second, which was a second too long. His eyes turned away, and dropped to the floor. His hand was still on the other's shoulder, and he soon felt cold fingers against his skin. Rocinante's hands were always so cold. Cold hands - warm heart, wasn't that the saying?

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

Rocinante got up, and together they left the room.

Their parents were waiting in hallway. Both proud, and both about to cry. Their mother broke out in tears again, and Doflamingo knew it was because of Rocinante, and not himself. She was afraid to lose Rocinante, not him. She would miss Rocinante, not him.

_Mother loves you._

Of course, Doflamingo knew she loved him. The problem was just... He knew she loved Rocinante more. Of course, he could understand that, after all, the younger was an angel on earth. Too kind for his own good. But that didn't change the stinging in his chest, and the hand that clenched around his heart. It hurt. It really hurt.

More hugging followed. It didn't look like his mother wanted to let go of Rocinante, ever. But finally, just when Doflamingo was on the verge of annoyance, they said their final goodbye. Their mother covered her mouth as her beloved, youngest son whispered a soft;

"Goodbye."

They walked side by side, in silence, carrying one suitcase each. Both dressed in RAF uniforms.

Doflamingo's heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He was excited, there was no denying it. Soon, he would be back in the air where he belonged. He was an excellent pilot, and everybody who had ever heard his name knew that. The brothers had learned to fly together, and it was only fitting that they should join the war together too.

And so they left their home, on this Friday the 13th.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The Donquxiote Family was an old family, which had it's roots in Spain, closely intertwined with many of the royal families. They had migrated from their homeland years before the civil-war broke out, and arrived in England in 1920. Neither of the brothers could remember Spain, which was only natural, since Doflamingo had been three years old, and Rocinante barely one.

They were raised to fit into the English upper-class, but were often questioned about their nationality, due to the uncommon names.

"Flying Officer, Donquixote." Doflamingo said at attention, everything about how he handled himself said that he was worthy of a rank higher than what in the army would answer to 'Lieutenant'.

The pretty woman behind the counter looked at him, and pushed a red lock of hair behind her ear. She smiled at him.

"The door to the right, there will be a sight-test." She said. Doflamingo suppressed a frown. He had hoped to just see his kite as soon as possible. A 'kite' was the word used by pilots when they talked about their planes. Doflamingo could hardly wait to try out his Spitfire.

Rocinante had been standing behind him, but now Doflamingo pulled him to the front. The younger brother did a salute too, which just looked comical for some reason.

"This is my brother." She could clearly see from his uniform that he held the same rank, so she just nodded, and gestured towards the door.

"Good luck." She said, to Doflamingo only, he got that from the way she batted her eyelashes at him. But he had no time to think about girls now - he would soon be up in the air.

They both passed their sight-test, though Rocinante had some trouble, but that was because he was horrible at reading, and had absolutely nothing to do with his sight. Why did they have to look at letters anyway, that was just idiotic. There were plenty of people who couldn't read! Well, of course, Doflamingo wished that Roci would just learn already.

The woman in charge of passing Doflamingo after the test, commented on the colour of his eyes. She thought they looked gorgeous. Doflamingo's eyes were blue like the sky, only brighter. A very untraditional look, considering his nationality. Rocinante's looked just the same, but there was a big difference between them still.

Doflamingo's eyes had a coldness about them. Yes, a darkness even, maybe. Hard to decide really. Rocinante's were kind and warm, fitting to his personality.

This airport was their base, and their new home. It had newly been built, as one of the preparations for the war, and had probably been used during 'the plan', which was the recruiting of new pilots from the lower classes in society. In Doflamingo's opinion, flying was something that belonged to the rich, but he realized that if only people of his status was allowed to fly, the RAF would be a lonely place.

Allready after the first meeting with the other pilots, he wondered if it hadn't been better after all.

"Doflamingo Donquixote." He said, with a friendly smile. He was good with people. He was good at making friends, and he knew life here would be easier for him if he could get on everyone's good side right away.

"Flamingo? You're named after a faggot bird?" One of the pilots answered, and the rest laughed. Doflamingo wasn't prepared for such a hostile reaction to something as basic as his name, so for a moment he didn't know what to reply. In the end, he chose to just ignore the comment, these peasants' pathetic attempts at being funny shouldn't affect him.

"This is my brother, Rocinante." Rocinante glared at the group of pilots. There was always something off about Rocinante when he glared, at least Doflamingo thought so. His brother hardly ever had such a hateful look on his face, and it didn't suit him at all.

"He can't introduce himself?" Alright, now he had had enough of their attitude. Why were they being so damned rude in the first place?

"He has no desire to speak to scum like you." Doflamingo's words were dripping with spite. He was good at making his voice sound like that. Like he would spit on their grave when they died.

Even though Doflamingo was just one man, the pilots went quiet. It was the string of authority in his voice that did it. It clearly said - I'm better than you, and you know that. He remained standing there in front of them for a moment, taking in the pleasant feeling of superiority. And then he pulled his brother along.

"Rude bastards, I hope they crash." Doflamingo muttered to himself, but loud enough for Rocinante to hear. From the corner of his eye, he could see the younger nod in agreement. He figured Rocinante didn't want them to die, and he didn't really either, but he wouldn't be sad if (or when) they did.

This was war, and the Empire would need all the healthy pilots they could get, unfortunately.

The brothers carried their cases up to their room. They would be sharing one, which was great, since for a moment, Doflamingo had feared he would have to share with someone... Poor. Rude and poor, what a bad combination. If one was poor and ugly, one should at least make up for it by being nice. That was his opinion anyway.

The room was very small, at least compared to the standard he was used to. It had a bunk-bed and a desk with a chair. He had promised their parents to write as often as he could, but for some reason, he doubted he would. He wanted some distance from them for a while. He wanted to be the master of his own life, and most of all - he wanted to win this war.

As soon as they had put their cases down, Rocinante jumped up in the top bed, clearly claiming it.

"Whatever, you can have it. But Roci, would it hurt you to talk a bit more? You can't rely on me to speak for you all the time." He looked up at his brother, who bit his bottom lip.

How often hadn't Doflamingo wondered what was going on in that head of his. What was Roci thinking? Why didn't he talk? He was such a simple person, yet so hard to figure out. He was clumsy, and had no talent for anything except flying. He could hardly read or write, and at home, he acted like a child. He loved sweets and cakes and to dance. He was the image of innocence, and Doflamingo had never even seen him near a girl. They were so different, yet, they were the same. Nobody but Doflamingo knew how alike they were. Sometimes, it was like Rocinante could read his mind. Read his cold eyes with his warm ones. Like a summer day opening the pages of a winter night, and understanding everything.

Rocinante's lips parted slightly, like he was going to say something, but then he just smiled and nodded. Doflamingo let out a small sigh.

"You're really hopeless, you know? Now come on, I want to see the kites."

Yesterday, they had left their home in heavy rain, but today the sun was shining. The air was a little moist still, and if it hadn't been for the sunlight, it would've been cold.

The airport was a field that had probably once been used to grow crops. Whoever had made the decision to put planes here instead, would most likely bitterly regret that in the future. Of course, Doflamingo didn't think about that.

And there they were.

Brand new spitfires. Beautiful kites which would take up and about. Above the clouds and above the sun, into space and another time. Defying the laws of gravity and the laws of men. Oh, how excited he was. He couldn't help himself, and his feet carried him fast as he ran over to the plane assigned to him.

About 30 feet long, 12 feet tall and with a wingspan of 36, produced at the price of over 12 000£, the spitfires were a sight to behold. He could hardly wait for the first flight.

"You're beautiful." He said to her, and patted the cold metal fuselage. His hand movements became softer, and he stroked alongside it, like he was caressing a dear pet, or perhaps even a lover.

He pulled his eyes away for a moment, to see Rocinante inspect his plane. They looked identical. Rocinante leaned his forehead against it, and Doflamingo heard him whisper;

"Hello."

The brothers hadn't shared a room since they were very young. Rocinante had been troubled by nightmares, so he would cry and run to Doflamingo's bed, and they would share it through the night. Their parents had thought they might as well put them in the same room, but Rocinante had still slept in Doffy's bed. He remembered it like it was yesterday. His brother's cold hands clinging to him, and his soft breathing, every drag of air a silent apology for being such a bother.

A tiny part of him wished to be back in the innocence of his childhood years, as he lay in the bottom bunk, staring up at the mattress above him. If he listened, he could hear the other breathe in a slow, steady pattern.

"Roci, are you asleep?" He asked. The breathing stopped for a second, and that meant 'no'. "Are you excited about the flight tomorrow?" He figured he was, since they had mutual feelings about flying, and Doflamingo could hardly even close his eyes. Tomorrow seemed a year away. "Me too. It's been such a long time since we flew." He hadn't been expecting an answer in the first place, though he had wished for one. His brother's voice would probably calm him down. He wondered what Rocinante was thinking. Was he annoyed by the talking? Did he want to sleep? Would he answer if Doflamingo asked?

A silence fell between them, and it lasted for minutes, while Doflamingo thought about the eternal question: Why wouldn't his brother talk? All he wanted right now was a sentence. A word. Just one would be enough.

"Goodnight." Rocinante said, and as the word reached him, he felt his whole body calm down. His muscles relaxed, and the feeling of excitement that had prevented him from sleeping, changed to a dull sensation that made his eyelids heavy. They fell shut and he dove into a dream where he was flying. What a wonderful thing to dream about.

The dream soon turned into a nightmare. How strange. He never had nightmares (he was too old for that, right?). In the dream, he was flying his kite, higher and higher. Above the clouds, looking for something. He knew he was looking for something, but didn't know what. Not until he saw it. His brother was sitting on a cloud, smiling as usual. But he couldn't stay on a cloud! It could disappear, and then he would drop to the ground! Doflamingo wanted to tell him this, so he called out to him, telling him to get on his plane. Rocinante just kept smiling, and his lips moved, forming some words. But the sound of the engine was too loud, so Doflamingo couldn't hear him.

"I can't hear you!"

Rocinante repeated whatever it was he was saying, but hearing him was impossible. Somehow, Doflamingo knew that those words were the most important words he'd ever hear. He had to know what they were!

The engine suddenly died, and the feeling of falling filled him. At least now he should be able to hear. But no, his plane was falling, and the cloud with Rocinante was too far away now. Closer and closer to the ground.

Rocinante's words suddenly reached him, but it wasn't his voice they were spoken in. It was his mother's.

_"Promise you will take care of Roci,_

_Doflamingo, promise."_

He knew his own death was approaching, but that wasn't what he was worried about. As he saw the ground come closer and closer, he could think of nothing but the fact that his brother was sitting on the cloud, alone, with no means to escape. He hadn't been able to take care of him.

"I did my best!" He yelled, to himself and to his mother who wasn't even there. But he knew it was a lie. He hadn't done his best, not at all.

Doflamingo's eyes flew open, and he looked right at his brother's worried face. He was half sitting-half lying in the bed, sweat covering his body, and Roci by the bedside, leaning into his personal space. He could feel his heart beat against his ribcage, like it was a prisoner who wanted to escape. Maybe it was.

The younger slowly put his hand on Doflamingo's chest, feeling the quick rhythm of the vital organ. His hand was cold against his sweaty skin, but that was okay. The contact chased away all the feelings from the nightmare. His breathing became normal, as his heart settled, giving up on its escape.

"Doffy." The older blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the other to say anything, because it wasn't needed. Just his hand on his heart like this was enough. How long had it been since he was the one who needed comfort? Months? Years? Had it ever even happened? "I had a nightmare, can I sleep next to you?"

Doflamingo was wrong. This was needed. His hand on his heart wasn't enough. He wanted him next to him for the rest of the night. He wanted to listen to the steady breathing, and feel the cold hands on his. Of course, they were way too old for this. And there was no way Doflamingo would ever suggest it, not even to himself, that he wanted this kind of support. And yet, Rocinante knew.

"Aren't you too old to be having nightmares?" He asked, and Roci nodded. His expression was worried, the slight arch of his eyebrows giving him a small look of hopelessness, like he didn't know how to handle the situation. But if there was one person who could handle Doflamingo, it was his younger brother.

They curled up in the bed together. Since they were both pretty tall, the space was way too narrow for them, except it wasn't. It was perfect.

Rocinante took his hand in his, cold fingers against his warm ones. They were way too old to be holding hands in their sleep. They were way too old for a lot of things, but as Doflamingo lay there, listening to the steady, soothing breath of Rocinante, he was calm. Not just his body, but his mind.

A small part of him resented Rocinante because their mother loved him the most, but that part shattered and disappeared into the night. Rocinante was his brother. His beloved brother, and it was his duty to keep him safe. Not because he had promised their mother. But because he loved him.

As the sun struggled up over the horizon, attempting to get rid of the fog, but failing miserably, the two brother's stirred in their sleep. Doflamingo's mind suddenly told him that this was the day of the first flight, and he woke up with a sudden jerk to his head. He was squeezed up against the wall, and he had to push himself away from it to get some space. Rocinante was occupying almost the whole bed. Well, it had no doubt been a battle during the night, where Rocinante would either fall out, or Doflamingo would get pushed against the wall. It seemed the younger had been victorious, even if he wasn't aware of it.

"Roci, wake up." He cleared his throat, and repeated the command. "Roci, wake up." The other's eyes opened. For a second, he looked annoyed about being woke up, but then he too realized what day it was.

Before Doflamingo could even blink, Rocinante was out of bed, and almost half dressed. He hurried after. He'd be damned before he let his younger brother beat him when it came to putting on a uniform.

Rocinante finished first, but before he could leave the room, Doflamingo grabbed his shoulder.

"You can't walk around like that. Look at your tie. Let me help you:" Roci let out an annoyed sigh, which was ignored. Not long after, both the brothers were ready for what they had been waiting for. The first flight.

They chased each other across the field on their way to the planes. They ignored the looks the other pilots were giving them. They didn't even hear the rude remarks thrown at them. Because they both knew that nobody else understood what it felt like to be free. The others didn't understand what flying was all about. And what it meant.

Rocinante was a fast runner, and reached his plane first, but he tripped when he attempted to climb onboard, and Doflamingo caught up.

They started their engines at the exact same time, but Doflamingo was the first on the runway, just because Rocinante let him. He knew that, but he still commented on it.

"Beat you to it, I'll be first in the air." There was no response. Figures.

His heart skipped a beat, or maybe ten beats, or maybe one hundred the second the wheels didn't touch the ground anymore. The engine roared like a dragon. Up. Up it went. Higher, higher, just like the dream, except he knew his brother was right behind him.

This was what he was meant to do. This was who he was meant to be. He was meant to be one with the sky and the clouds and the wind and the air. Everything disappeared, as the morning sun hit his face through the glass. It was beautiful, and he was free.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_August 15th 1940 _

_ RAF Base Croydon_

_ South London, England_

A thin trail of smoke seeped out between Rocinante's slightly parted lips. Doflamingo watched as it became one with the air. His brother's movements were so calm. Just the way he held the cigarette was different from the other pilots. His slim fingers weren't trembling in the slightest, nor did he have that forceful grip on the cigarette either.

Every single pilot in the RAF smoked. Well, except for Doflamingo. Watching his brother smoke was way more calming than doing it himself, and even though he would never admit it, the truth was that he didn't care much for the taste. The whole dining area on the base smelled of cigarettes, but at least it was better than the infirmary, which had the distinct scent of burnt flesh. Doflamingo had only been there a couple of times to see some wounded 'friends'. One was considered extremely lucky if one survived a hit, but Doflamingo wasn't so sure. The last time he had been in the infirmary, it had been to check up on who he would call his 'oldest friend' in the base. He was the older son in a family from the upper class, just like himself. He had been shot down, but managed to land his plane decently. Not that it had helped him much. He had lost both his legs, and when Doflamingo closed his eyes, he could still see the stumps, and hear the sound of teeth gritting hard together. No. Doflamingo would prefer a quick and clean death any day.

Nothing was the same anymore.

Flying wasn't about being free. It wasn't about becoming one with the sky or the clouds or the wind or the air. And it certainly wasn't beautiful.

Flying was win or die. Kill or be killed. Almost everybody he knew were dead. The last of the guys who had laughed at them on their first day died yesterday. He was shot out of the sky, and if the impact hadn't killed him, he had suffered the drowning death.

Five new faces came through the door. New recruits. They hadn't gotten any in a while. He tried to remember what it was like when he first got here, but it was a lifetime ago. He was one thousand years, and too old to recall anything. The five young men kept together in a group, and stopped as soon as they saw Doflamingo and the rest of his company.

The Donquixote brothers were sitting together by a table, accompanied by the three other pilots who had been there the longest.

The men nodded towards Doflamingo. They tried to keep their voices down, and if it hadn't been for the infernal buzzing sound in his head, he probably would've been able to hear what they were saying. Rocinante could hear them, apparently, for he snorted and a small smile appeared on his face.

"What?" Doflamingo wanted to know. But his brother didn't answer. It wasn't like the war had made him any more talkative.

He soon got his answer anyway, for the group of young pilots headed over to them.

"You're... You're him, aren't you?" One of them asked, looking at Doflamingo like he was divine or something.

"I'm flying officer Donquixote, at your service." He said, and he tried to be friendly, he really did. But it was hopeless. His words came out lazy and uninspiring. This wasn't what was needed from a senior like himself! He should inspire these newbies to be the best pilots they could be! He mentally scolded himself, but it did him no good.

"So you are him after all!" The men looked at each other with stars in their eyes. Doflamingo arched his eyebrows.

"You've heard of me?" He tried to sound modest, again, a failure.

"Oh come on, Doffy, everybody knows about you. You're the best pilot at this base, and probably in the whole RAF. You're our bird." That was William, one of the other 'senior' pilots. He had arrived at the base about a month after the brothers. Doflamingo was aware that he had a reputation on the base, but not that it exceeded onto the rest of the RAF.

"That's right! That's what they call you! 'The bird'!"

Doflamingo looked at his 'fanclub' with confusion, and maybe a hint of distress too. He was used to people looking up to him, but this was a problem. This was a test of his very character. He had to inspire these men. No matter what. Even if flying wasn't freedom anymore.

He smiled at them.

"I look forward to be flying with you, gentlemen." They all smiled to that, and nodded, and two of them even did a salute.

"Can I ask you something, sir?" The one who had been talking all the time asked. Doflamingo granted him permission with a nod. "How have you survived for so long?" Well, wasn't that the ultimate question.

It was also one he couldn't answer. He couldn't say it straight out - _I hope for the one beside me to get shot down instead of me_. But that was the truth. He always hoped for that, and it had kept him alive for this long. Well, of course, he was an excellent pilot too, and he hoped that was the main reason why he was alive. But there was no telling for sure.

"I just fly." He answered, but it sounded very halfheartedly, and it was clear that that wasn't the whole story. But the younger man dropped the subject and they left.

Doflamingo felt a hand on his shoulder. His brother, of course. Like he was saying that he did a good job. It made him feel a whole lot better.

A silence fell over the table. Silences weren't good, because they gave room to think. And if there was one thing one shouldn't do, it was think. Thoughts of home and fallen comrades often appeared. And of course, more than anything - the thought of defeat. What if the allied forces lost the war altogether?

A sudden, loud noise stopped the pilots from falling into the pit of despair. It was Rocinante who had clapped his hands together. With energy that nobody else could master, he jumped up from his chair, and went over to the gramophone. After a few more moments, the tune of Glenn Miller's 'Moon Love' was playing loudly in the whole room.

All the pilots in the room looked at Rocinante and the gramophone. They had heard the song about one million times.

"If only we had some girls, so we could dance." William said with a sigh.

It didn't look like that was a problem to Rocinante, for he skipped across the room, tilting his head from side to side to the music. And then he reached out his hand to his brother. Doflamingo looked at it. Was he asking him for a dance?

He didn't take it.

Rocinante glared, in fact, everybody glared.

"Doffy, don't be such a fucking twat. Dance, it'll entertain us." William said, and soon, people began to shout 'dance, dance, dance'. What could he do?

With a small sneer, he took his brother's hand in a tight grip, trying to crush his fingers. His hand was cold, and despite how much that grip had to hurt, he still smiled widely. Doflamingo stopped the painful squeezing. Why had he done that in the first place? Because he didn't want to dance? Why wouldn't he want that? It would entertain the other pilots, and it wasn't like he was embarrassed about it. Everybody looked up to him after all. This was a perfect thing to do to lift everyone's spirits.

Rocinante loved to dance, that was no secret. Doflamingo was fine with it, but it wasn't something he did all that often. Which gave them quite different skills. Soon, Doflamingo found himself in a rather complicated dance, and he had to do his best to keep up. Rocinante rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed. The pilots started clapping their hands to the rhythm. Smiles and laughter filled the hall. Rocinante grinned widely, and spun his older brother around, receiving a cheer from the crowd.

Doflamingo knew rising spirit around him wasn't his earning. It was all because Rocinante understood everything. He knew what to do to make people forget what was around them. A skill he, as the older brother should possess, and yet... He didn't. Was it because Rocinante always smiled like he was happy? No matter how many of their fellow pilots crashed and died, Rocinante's gentle smile stayed on his face. In a way, Doflamingo envied him. But he didn't wish for them to trade. No, his brother was kindness itself, and he deserved to be happy.

He looked at his blue eyes, shining brightly, the joy of music glimmering from them like stars. Cold hands against his soon-to-be sweaty ones. And that perfect smile that said everything would be okay. Everything would be alright.

And then the alarm cut through the music.

Reality returned.

This was war, and nothing would be alright.

Everybody rushed to the planes, the Donquixote brothers running in the front. Words of encouragement and warning were called from friend to friend, pilot to pilot, comrade to comrade. Doflamingo wanted to say something to his brother. Something like; _Don't you dare die on me. _But he didn't. He couldn't help but fear he would jinx him. Rocinante held out his fist, and they smashed them together instead. That was a promise. A promise that they would both land safely.

Doflamingo climbed into the cockpit, and attached his helmet as fast as he could. After a quick scan over the instruments, he was ready.

Kite after kite leaped up from the runway, and now, the sky awaited them.

"Okay, boys, let's show them who owns the sky, and then go back and dance some more, alright?" Whenever he flew, he felt more sure about himself. Even though everything else about flying had changed, that one thing remained. In the air, he was a leader. He was the best pilot, and he would lead them to victory yet again.

Above the clouds, they could see their enemies as black dots speeding towards them. They were many. "Fuck! They have bombers! Shoot the bombers before they reach the base!" Doflamingo ordered.

"Got that." Someone answered. He had no idea who.

Just 'shooting' the bombers wasn't as easy as it sounded. The German Messerschmitts weren't just for show. And they were many. Doflamingo had to turn hard to port to prevent a head on collision. It was only lucky that the bullets grazed him.

His pulse was beating almost as fast as the propel on his plane was rotating, as he dived after the first Messerschmitt in sight. He saw an enemy plane follow him, and another allied plane after that. His brother, maybe? He had no idea.

But this wasn't a time to care about who or what. All that mattered was hitting that damned nazi plane with as many bullets as possible. He fired away. The plane in front of him did a roll, but it wasn't quick enough. A hit. And another one. Smoke was now coming from the engine. _That's right you bastard, now fall. _Doflamingo fired again, and the enemy plane altered course, now heading straight for the ground in a fall. From the corner of his eye, he could see the plane that had been on his tail start burning. It appeared Rocinante had done his job. Alright, two down... More to go. They had to get the bombers, but they were impossible to engage. He saw his brother's plane dash in front of him, do a double roll and then head upwards. He was acting as a decoy. Very well, Doflamingo would take that opportunity. He tried to ignore the twist in his gut when he saw two enemy planes follow Rocinante. He had to focus on the bombers.

The Heinkels could defend themselves pretty well, and all the Messerschmitts swarming around them made it almost impossible to get in a hit. Doflamingo cursed when he missed and missed again, and had to do a quick dive not to become the victim himself.

Three planes were on his tail now. Three. That was a lot to shake off. He would need help.

"I've got three on my tail!" He called out, hoping that somebody could come to his rescue. An allied plane appeared on his starboard side, that too was being chased.

_I hope they hit you and not me_, he thought. But then he saw whose plane it was.

Rocinante's spitfire did a triple roll, and then a double roll the other way. That had to make even him dizzy, right? Doflamingo held his breath as he saw the bullets barely miss. He was being hunted too, and if he didn't focus, it would be the end for him.

He heard the horrid sound of bullets hitting his wing. He quickly dove down, and then upwards again. He was tempted to do a loop, but that was too risky when the sky was full like this. The three planes followed him easily. He had to get someone to help him. But from the calls coming from the radio, it sounded like everyone was in trouble.

"Roci, go to the right, I'll come from the other side and we'll take down each other's chasers, alright?" He knew his brother wouldn't answer. He never said a word during flights. But he also knew that he had understood the order.

Doing a twist, he tried to gain a new course, but the messerschmitts wouldn't let him, and he was forced back. In the distance he could see Rocinante do a loop.

"No! What the hell are you doing?!" He heard himself yell. And then-

Bullets. Hits. Smoke from Rocinante's kite. For a horrifying moment which Doflamingo would probably never forget, the plane seemed to stop in mid-air. Not moving at all. But in the next second, it was headed for one place and one place only. The ground, and his brother's death.

He was sure his scream at that time was so loud it buried the sound of the engine. His brother's name leaving his throat in a painful call. A call full of terror, as he saw the plane head for the ground. He knew there was nothing he could do. Nothing on earth or in heaven. But when the kite disappeared beneath the clouds, he still followed. He didn't even care about the four planes that pursued him.

Even though his whole head was total chaos, he could still draw conclusions from the way Rocinante's plane hit the ground. It wasn't a crash, it was an emergency landing. It was hard, but controlled. Which mean Rocinante had been alive when he touched ground.

There was only one thought in Doflamingo's head now - getting to his brother.

What was duty compared to his brother's gentle smile? It was nothing. Nothing at all.

Rocinante had had some sort of luck when he 'landed', for it was a good spot. A field. A messerschmitt dove to finish the job, clearly thinking the same as Doflamingo - that the pilot could be alive.

"Oh no you fucking don't!" Doflamingo fired away, and hit. About the same time as his own plane was. He heard a protesting sound coming from his engine, and knew it couldn't carry him anymore. But that was just good timing, for he was going to land anyway! He was going to get to Rocinante, and there was no force in this world that could keep him from it!

He still had control of the plane, and lucky for him, two friendly pilots came down and chased the nazis way from his tail. This way he could do a controlled landing.

Controlled wasn't really the word, for it hurt like hell. His forehead banged against the wheel when he landed, and for a moment he saw nothing but stars. The world spun around before him, and he knew he was about to lose consciousness, but he forced himself to stay awake.

_My brother needs me._

After all, this was all his fault. If he hadn't wished for him to be hit instead... It never would've happened.

_I didn't know it was him, or I never would've-_

There was no time for excuses. He had to make this right.

He crawled out of the plane, his legs were weaker than he thought, and his heart was beating so fast he wanted to throw up. He held his stomach and covered his mouth for a second, before he started running in the direction where he thought Rocinante's plane to be.

His legs felt like jelly, and running wasn't a thing they could do in their state, but he still ran. Not as fast as he should've, but as fast as he could. He could see smoke, and that was where he headed.

The first thing about the plane that he noted, was the red colour of the glass. It was painted with blood. And, _oh god_, that was a lot of blood. The need to throw up was stronger than ever before, and if it hadn't been for the knowledge that his brother needed him, he probably would've disposed of everything in his stomach at that point.

He climbed up and opened the door. The smell of smoke and blood hit him right in the face. Rociante's body was spasming in a sick way. He was holding his own neck, trying to stop the fatal wound from killing him faster. His mouth opened and closed like a fish snapping for air on land. He was drowning. Doflamingo could see it.

"I'm here. I'm here. Come on. Let's get you out." Doflamingo leaned over, and got a splash of blood on his face when Rocinante coughed hard. A taste of copper spilled in his mouth, making him even more sick. "Hold on." He tried to sound calm, but his voice was anything but that. He detached the straps holding Rocinante to the seat, and with strength he didn't know he had, he pulled his younger brother out of the plane. They both landed on the ground with a painful impact. Rocinante coughed again, harder this time. His fingers trembled, and tried to find the spot where they had been pressing just a moment ago. Blood was everywhere. On both their uniforms and more and more was coming down from Roci's mouth.

Doflamingo pressed on the wound. The raging heartbeat beneath it was scaring him, because it was decreasing. Slower and slower it went. Like he could feel Rocinante dying.

"What do I do?" He asked. It was a question for anyone. Anyone who could answer. Rocinante, or himself or God. "I don't know what to do, Roci." He looked at his brother. His face pained and he was still struggling to breathe. "What do I do..."

He watched the bloodied chest of his brother rise and sink again. Shallow and uneven. No pattern, and that horrid shaking of his whole body. The wet ground made his knees cold, and everything seemed to quiet. He couldn't hear the thundering sound from the planes above them. He couldn't hear the hissing sound of his brother's attempts to breathe. He couldn't hear any of their heartbeats. He could only see it all happening, and he could see that there was nothing he could do.

He suddenly got an idea.

He took off Rocinante's helm. The second he took his fingers away from the neck-wound, blood splashed out. He ignored it, and bit off the wire that was supposed to be attached to the radio. With trembling fingers, he managed to get ahold of the copper, and he pulled strings out, leaving him with a small rubber-tube. "It's okay, Roci, I'll help you breathe." He hated of fanatic his voice sounded. He shifted closer to his brother, and leaned down. Drops of blood hit his face. He took the tube and stuck it into the wound. Rocinante's eyes widened. "It's okay. Shh.. I've got you." He pushed the tube further in, and angled it downwards. He put it to his mouth, and started sucking. Blood filled his mouth more easily than he had thought. He spat out the mouthful of his brother's blood, and sucked again. He had to get the blood out of his lungs. On his fifth mouthful, he had to throw up. The taste was too strong, and the fact that the blood came from Rocinante only made it that much worse.

Less and less blood came up, and Doflamingo changed his tactics. He now breathed air down instead. Somewhere along the way, the younger brother had closed his eyes. Maybe from pain, maybe from blood loss, or maybe even from fear.

Exactly how long he continued to breathe for his brother, he did not know. How long did he sit there until help arrived? One hour, or ten years? All he knew was that he was dizzy. During that one hour, or those ten years, he had lost awareness of whether or not his brother was alive. He had just focused on breathing for him, and repeating the words;

_Don't leave me_

_ Don't leave me_

_ Don't leave me_

_ Don't leave me_

Over and over in his head.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Blood and burnt flesh, that was what it smelled like. And infected wounds and death. Doflamingo didn't look at anyone as he walked between the beds. He tried to block out the moans of pain and fear coming from the wounded men and women, but the sounds still reached him. They went right through his bones and chilled him. His brother was here, among these dying people.

His frame looked small and weak lying on the bed. The sheets were supposed to be clean, but old stains of blood were still clearly visible, making the bed appear unclean. Doflamingo noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he sat down on the bedside. Rocinante's eyes were closed, and his chest moved in a steady pattern. Yes, that was the way he was supposed to breathe. It calmed him.

He knew that it would be better for his brother if he slept. Being awake was painful, because of the wound to his neck, which was anything but healed. But then again, it had only been three days since he was shot down. Doflamingo knew this, and yet he spoke to wake him up.

"How are you feeling, Roci?" Why did he ask that. The answer was clear to him, though he pretended not to understand. He wanted to hear his brother's voice, because it would make him feel that much more at ease. And he was willing to put Rocinante through pain to achieve this.

_What a selfish man I am, _he thought, and knew it was true.

The younger man opened his eyes, slowly and squinted them, due to the bright light. Doflamingo would've liked it if he smiled when he saw his face, but Rocinante's mouth didn't move.

"I'm sorry I woke you up." He was sorry, he truly was. He was sorry he was such a pathetic person who was scared. He was afraid because he had never felt so lonely before in his entire life. The only thing that would take this loneliness away was his brother's voice. Rocinante had to know, since he always understood everything. Doflamingo took his hand. It wasn't cold as usual, and the stickiness of it made him pull away. Rocinante was running a fever, it would seem. Not unexpected. He had lost a lot of blood after all, lucky that Doflamingo had the same blood type. He had given him his blood. The same blood was flowing through their veins now. Doflamingo took his hand again, gently caressing his wrist, and then his palm, and then he intertwined their fingers. "I'm sorry." The words left him before he could stop himself. He still felt like he was to blame for what had happened. A small, almost invisible curve of his brother's eyebrows gave away a frown. So he didn't blame him?

Well obviously.

Obviously the naive, loving Rocinante would never blame him for anything. But if he had read his mind... If he had known what he had thought in that moment.

_I didn't know it was him. _The excuse again. But what scared Doflamingo the most was that he wasn't sure whether or not it was a lie. Would he have wanted to crash instead of his brother? He wanted the answer to be yes, but... Doflamingo wasn't that sort of person. He wasn't loving, and he wasn't kind. Sometimes, he even feared there was a part of his heart missing. But one thing was for certain, that if, by some chance, something had gone wrong when he was created, the only person who could fix that error was Rocinante.

"Roci I..." _Need to hear your voice. _But would he ask for it? Rocinante already knew what he needed, and what he wanted. But why didn't he say anything then? Was he mad at him? Was he blaming him? No, no, he would never. Then what was it?

Something crumbled inside of him, and he leaned down, placing his head on the other's shoulder. He could smell the blood still, but right now he just wanted to be close to him. He wanted Rocinante to smile and say... Anything. Anything at all. What ever words he chose, they would make everything okay. "Roci please, your voice..." He mumbled, muffled against his bare shoulder. His skin was so hot.

His brother didn't make a single sound.

Doflamingo leaned back up to find the answer on his face. Rocinante's eyes were glassy, like he was about to cry, but fought it back. A shaking hand moved to point at the bandages on his neck.

"Right. Right. Of course. Your throat hurts. You can't talk. I understand. I'm sorry. I just..." Just what? _I just woke you up to get comfort? _Was that it?

The hand of guilt took a hold of his heart and squeezed it enough for it to hurt.

"I'll write a letter to our parents, telling them what happened. You should be going home soon. That'll be nice, right?" He forced a smile, which wasn't returned. That made the painful stinging in his chest even worse, and he let out a rasped breath. Then he let go of his hand and got up from the bed. "I'll come see you later, get some sleep." He said with his back turned. He couldn't take it. He couldn't stand to see his brother like that.

How pathetic.

Rocinante was the one who needed to be comforted! Not himself! He was the older brother, and not the wounded one. As he exited the infirmary, he felt like the part of him that was missing grew into a big hole of nothingness, leaving him hollow inside. Was he a horrible person maybe? Was he a weak, horrible person?

Four days passed, and then he received the news.

He had been to visit his brother as often as he could, which still wasn't enough. He spent almost all the hours of the day and night up in the air, fighting for his life. Of course, he had always been afraid of dying in battle, but these days when he flew without his brother, he wasn't just afraid. He was terrified. Luckily, the Spitfires were the Kings of the Sky. They were much, much faster than the Messerschmidts, so as long as their numbers weren't too high, they could pick them down like stealing apples from a tree. But the frightening thought of never seeing his brother again, and never saying goodbye spooked in the back of his mind.

Every time he went to the infirmary, he was happy to be alive. All he wanted and wished for was a word from Rocinante. After two days, he would've been fine with just a smile. But his brother said nothing, and he didn't smile.

It was late, too late to visit the wounded, but Doflamingo didn't care. He hadn't seen Roci all day, and just like a plane, he needed to refuel. And his engine ran on his brother's presence.

When he arrived in the infirmary, a nurse was changing Rocinante's bandage, and he got to look at the wound. It had been stitched up and cleaned, but it still looked.. Wrong. Eight stitches went across his throat. When Rocinante spotted Doflamingo, he raised his hand and waved, but he didn't smile. He always smiled when he waved. A knife hit Doflamingo in the back and he started bleeding, but he still walked over to his brother's bed.

"How's he doing?" He asked the nurse, since he had given up on getting anything out of Roci.

"He's doing fine. He'll be sent on leave tomorrow, I believe. But he will never talk again." The last sentence hung in the air for a moment, before Doflamingo could prosess it.

"He hasn't talked to you either? Well, I'm not surprised. He's not much of a talker." He tried to chuckle at it. His silly little brother who didn't like to talk... But he just managed a painful smile.

"No, you don't understand." She looked at Doflamingo, her eyes a little sad, but not very. "He will never talk again. His vocal chords are destroyed. He has lost his voice." Her voice was calm, and distant, to Doflamingo. Perhaps she was in another world, talking to another person about another brother. Except she wasn't.

"He has lost his.. Voice?" Doflamingo whispered, because that was all he managed.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I'm sorry. At least he's alive." She tried a small smile, before she brought her equipment and left. She had seen many horrible things. Held hands of the dead and walked together with Death. She had sent letters with the last words of pilots who would never see their loved ones again. So of course, she felt nothing for a person who had just lost their voice.

Doflamingo's cold eyes rested on his brother's neck. He would never talk again. He would never say another word. Doflamingo would never hear the soothing sound of his voice. He felt a cold hand on his face, forcing his chin upwards. Upwards to meet kind eyes and no smile. It was like Rocinante's face was frozen in a sad mask. Doflamingo faltered.

And fell.

His forehead against his brother's. Sharp breaths and Rocinante's steady heartbeat. A reassurance, but still, a horrible truth.

"Roci." It was like he was the one who couldn't speak, the way his voice sounded so weak. He had no idea what his next words were supposed to be. _Please talk to me_. Would he really say something like that? Just because he couldn't face the fact? Would he let his brother see how important it was to him?

"Please." A prayer, not really directed at his brother, but at the world. Surely, God wouldn't take away his light? He wouldn't let Doflamingo fight this hopeless war without that one thing that could keep him from falling into despair? Rocinante's voice and smile was so important to him. They were his summer days, and what would he do in a winter night? The winter was his own eyes, and the part of him that was missing. He needed his summer days.

Fingers moved through his hair, as Rocinante caressed him. A gesture showing total devotion, and yet - why wouldn't he smile?

_Smile._

_ Please smile._

But Rocinante didn't understand. He always did, but not this time. For surely, if he understood, he would've put Doflamingo out of this misery?

What Doflamingo hated the most, was how he made himself the victim, when it was Roci who had lost something.

Doflamingo lay in the top bunk, breathing in the faint scent of his brother. A mix of smoke and something that reminded him of home. Or, maybe not home, but... Something dear and close and safe. Rocinante had been sent home. That was good, right? He would be safe (hopefully), and he could take care of their parents. Home was probably where Rocinante wanted to be. He had never wanted to leave in the first place.

He turned around, trying to get comfortable. He would need these few hours of sleep. The alarm could start ringing at any second.

He took a deep breath, and it was like his brother was right next to him. God he missed him. Already.

How long would his leave last? Surely, they would need more pilots- Doflamingo cut off his own thoughts. How could he think something like that? How could he want Roci to come back, when he would be safer at home? He was perfectly aware that he was a pretty selfish man, but wishing something like that was just despicable. And yet, there was nothing he wanted more than to have his brother by his side again, even if they were fighting to the death in the sky. He needed him. He needed him so much.

Doflamingo was a shell. A ghost. The perfect pilot, merciless and cold. His only words were 'yes sir', and 'kill them all'. He gave blood when he was asked, and he flew when he was ordered. He killed whenever he could, and the distance between him and the other pilots only widened.

He was nothing, and he was everything.

This lasted for a month, until he received a letter.

It had been sent to the wrong place twice, but that wasn't so weird, considering the awful handwriting. But to Doflamingo, it was easy to read his name. '_Donquixote Doflamingo'_. It looked like a child had written it, but he knew who it was from. Greedy fingers tore the envelope open, and he quickly unfolded the letter.

_"Brother" _was the first word written. "_Wait for me_." and that was it.

Did that mean he was coming back? Was Rocinante re-joining the RAF? Doflamingo's heart jumped in his chest, and a feeling of reassurance flushed over his entire body. But he also knew that he was a terrible person for wanting his brother back.

The next few days, Doflamingo was himself again. He was friendly towards the other pilots, and inspired them to do their best. He even flirted with one of the nurses, and got scolded for it afterwards. This was almost the same Doflamingo that had left his home a year ago. Of course, he was changed, but war changes people, everybody knows that. The truth was, that none of Doflamingo's actions were real. He was just afraid to lose hold of this tiny hope. He didn't want to fall back into the abyss he had been living in for the past weeks.

Five days after he had gotten the letter from his brother, he got another note. But this was an official one, and it was anything but happy.

Their parents were dead,. Their house in London had been hit by a bomb, and was totally demolished. Doflamingo held the letter between two fingers and stared emptily out into nothing. And then he read it again. And again. And again.

Their parents were dead. Maybe it was because he saw death every day that it took him a minute to grasp the message. A part of himi hadn't expected the whole family to survive the war, but he had imagined his own death before theirs. Sorrow would've hit him, if it hadn't been for what was missing from the letter. It said nothing about what had happened to his brother. He had been living in the house too, right? Was he okay? Was he dead too? Maybe he hadn't been in the house at that time, but if London had been targeted that heavily, then he could've been killed out on the street, right? Maybe they hadn't found his body yet?

The paper fell to the floor with a light sound, but it echoed through his head, together with the message, and the question.

_Is Roci alive?_

Doflamingo wasn't able to feel sad about his parents dying. He didn't think about the fact that he would never see his father's face again, and never feel his mothers arms around him. The only thing on his mind was Rocinante. Was that strange? Was a part of him really missing?

_Is there something wrong with me?_

_ Why am I not crying?_


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

600 km/h was an intoxicating speed. Most people go their whole life without ever experiencing it. The feeling of piercing hole in time.

To Doflamingo, flying had never been all about the speed. Nor had it been about the altitude. Not even about the beautiful sceneries. Then, what had made him love flying so much? He couldn't remember. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring back the feeling of joy that used to fill him when he was in the air.

He couldn't even remember what it was supposed to feel like.

A roll, and then another one, completely unnecessary, but he did them all the same. Someone talked to him on the radio, telling him to 'knock it the fuck off', but he didn't listen. A distance filled him, and he felt cut off from the world. Like the voice reaching him was that of someone he had known a long time ago. Or maybe he had never known them at all. Who was he to answer such a question?

The wheels on the plane touched the ground. To others, it probably looked soft, but it wasn't. It was like stepping into mud, heavy and dirty. All he wanted was to be up in the air again, but at the same time, that was also the last thing he wished for.

What had happened to him, and when had it happened? In some ways, Doflamingo thought that he had always been like this. That he had always been sort of... Hollow on the inside. He had yet to shred a single tear for their parents, and he was now certain that a part of him was missing. A part that should've made his heart whole. That little piece of the puzzle that he had lost, or maybe he was even born without it, made him bleed internally. And somewhere in his mind, buried deep under the scream of duty, he hoped that it would kill him.

Surely, something would have to end this for him? End it all.

He climbed out of his kite, which had stopped being a kite a long time ago. Now it was just a prison. A prison he longed for, and yet resented.

When he first saw the blonde man standing by the entrance to the barracks, he was sure he was seeing a ghost. No, not a ghost. An angel. For what was Rocinante if not an angel on earth? With his messy blond hair which the wind played gently with. Was there really anything gentle left in the world? His brother wasn't smiling.

It was a dream then, or maybe a nightmare. Was he losing it for real? Had he started seeing things?

The hallucination took a step towards him, and then another, and then the ghost of his brother was running towards him. He had always been a fast runner, and seconds later, Doflamingo felt arms wrap tightly around himself, and a heavy breath against his ear. And it was all real.

The moment he realized that this was actually the living, breathing form of Rocinante, his heart skipped a beat. And then he hugged him back. He tried to push his brother as close as possible, not caring if he broke every bone in his body in the process. The younger didn't make a single sound, or any attempt to escape. A few more seconds lasted, while the last fear that this was all a dream died.

"You came." Doflamingo said, and from his voice, it sounded like he had never doubted him in the first place.

There was no answer, and Doflamingo remembered. His voice was gone, and he would never hear it again. He let go of Rocinante, slowly, like he didn't want to (which was the case). "You heard about our parents, I presume?" A small, pained look travelled across Rocinante's face, but it had started already before he asked, so Doflamingo knew it was because he had squeezed him too hard.

A nod, that was all. A nod and sad eyes. Doflamingo had to remind himself that the other couldn't talk. He had never talked much to begin with, but he imagined that his little brother would've liked to at least say something about their parents' death. But maybe he was wrong.

Silence fell between them, all the sounds from the airbase surrounding them wrapped them in a blanket of noise, which somewhere along the way turned into a suppressed, distant echo of something that wasn't important anymore. Doflamingo had captured his brother's eyes with his own, and held them without blinking. Sorrow, that was what those eyes had become. The summer day was fighting somewhere in that blue sky, but Doflamingo couldn't see it. So even the light behind Rocinante's eyes had gone out? The sun that had been his comfort.

His voice was gone, his kind eyes were gone, and so was his gentle smile.

Anger, that was what he felt. A white bolt of lightning hit him, and gave his arm a life of its own. Before he even knew why, he lifted it, and punched his brother right in the face. The pain in his knuckles only added to his fury, and he hit him again. And again.

As he watched blood trail from Rocinante's broken lip, he wondered, somewhere in his mind why he was doing this. Why was he angry? And why was he taking it out on the only person in the world who he had left to love? Why was he hurting kindness itself?

Bony fingers grabbed his wrist, and though the grip wasn't firm at all, it was enough to stop him. His whole body grew weak, and he was afraid he would fall to the ground and sink right through it. Rocinante leaned down, as he lifted Doflamingo's hand up. They met in the middle, and Rocinante kissed the trembling hand with his bleeding lips. In that moment, he wanted to die.

The word 'sorry' was a small word, Doflamingo thought. It was just five letters put together. Was that supposed to make everything okay? How could anything ever be okay?

The brothers were sitting side by side on Doflamingo's bed. None of them were looking at each other, but Doflamingo could picture his brother's face perfectly. A black eye and a swollen lip. Still traces of blood left around his mouth.

_ I'm so sorry._

That was what he wanted to say. But did it matter? Nothing could take away what he had done. He suddenly felt a weight on his shoulder, as Rocinante leaned his head against it. Why? Wasn't he afraid of him? Wasn't he scared he'd hit him again? Doflamingo looked down at his hand, and could see small cracks of blood on his knuckles. Rocinante's blood. He let out a ragged breath. How could he take it back? How could he build a time machine that would take them far far away? To their childhood years, maybe. To a summer day.

His brother's head rested against his shoulder, and guilt dug deeper and deeper into his heart. The hole inside of him was bigger now, big enough for him to feel.

'Sorry' had no meaning.

Because of the injuries Doflamingo had caused him, Rocinante was kept from flying the next two days. Maybe Doflamingo should've been locked up for what he did, but the base knew that they needed him, so they sent him up into the sky to fight.

He was exhausted, to be honest. His head was killing him. All he wanted was one day of quiet. One day without shooting and bombing and the roar of an engine. He dragged his feet into his room, wanting nothing but to lay down in his bed and sleep for a thousand years, until the war had ended, and all humans were dead. Perhaps then, it would be quiet?

As soon as he saw Rocinante, he stopped, dead in his tracks. He was glued to the floor, and couldn't move another inch.

Rocinante was sitting on his bed, with a knife in his hand. There was blood on it, as well as on his face. He had cut himself on either side of his mouth.

"What the hell have you done?!" Doflamingo shouted at him, before the glue let go, and he rushed over to take the knife away. He threw it to a distant corner of the small room, before he grabbed Rocinante's face.

The cuts were deep. He had stuck the blade in his mouth and cut up from both the corners of his mouth. Blood flowed from the wounds, and escaped his parted lips. He was... Smiling? No. No. The wounds just made it look like he was smiling.

Doflamingo's heart stopped.

It couldn't be... He wouldn't have... Was it because...

There was actually a punishment for self-inflicted wounds done by anyone who served in the air force, navy or army. Doflamingo had to use all his charisma, and 110% of his charm to keep them from putting Rocinante in jail.

_He can still fly._

_ He's an excellent pilot._

_ He didn't know what he was doing._

_ He was suffering from a concussion._

That was just some of the excuses he used. It was probably due to all the respect he had earned, that he got his way.

Once again, Doflamingo went to the infirmary to visit his brother. He was going to ask him;

_Why_

He had to know. The thought that had been spooking him all day was a horrible one. He just needed Rocinante to deny it, and then it would all be okay. That wasn't true, because nothing would ever be okay, now that his summer day had gone away, but at least he could try to keep on going.

Rocinante had needed two stitches on either side of his mouth. The wounds had been cleaned up, but they still looked disgusting, Doflamingo thought. Snakes crawled around in his stomach as he approached his younger brother, and sat down on his bed. He had brought a little notebook, and a pencil, so that Rocinante could answer his questions. There was only one really. Doflamingo was terrified of what the answer would be, but he had to know.

"Why did you do it, Roci?" There, he had said it. He hadn't asked how he was feeling or anything else, just that one question, which was probably the most important thing he had even asked him about.

The mute took the hint with the notebook, and picked it up. Slowly, he wrote with his messy handwriting.

"_To smile_" it said.

Doflamingo looked at the scrap of paper, taking in the words, there were only two after all. But they burned. Burned their way deep into him. Two bullets to pierce his heart and make him bleed. He watched as the blood soaked his uniform and ran down his whole body, and then onto the floor. It flooded the whole damned room. He would have to swim when he went back. He grasped the sheets, and his fists turned white.

This was exactly the answer he had feared. Feared so much he had been almost certain it wasn't it.

He looked at his brother. His eyes were sad, but the now permanent smile disturbed the picture. Rocinante could see the impact on his brother, and he could probably see all the blood too. Hell, maybe he could even see right through his chest, and look upon the hole inside of him.

"Why?" He whispered, not really for Rocinante to hear. Not really for anyone to hear. But his brother took another piece of paper to answer. He spent a long time on writing. Doflamingo watched as the pencil moved, slowly.

"_Because I can't talk anymore_"

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible for Rocinante to understand him this well. Could he have known how important his voice and smile was to Doflamingo? Could he have done this all for him? Doflamingo's mouth went dry as he tried to find something to say.

"Is it because of me?" He didn't want an answer to that. He was about two seconds away from tossing the notebook away, but he let Rocinante write.

"_I saw you upset_"

Doflamingo inhaled sharply. Now he was the mute one. He reached out his hand, and could see it tremble violently, until it reached Rocinante's face. He trailed the wounds with his index finger. The younger stayed completely still, before he wrote something more.

"_I'm sorry_"

And Doflamingo couldn't take it.

Tears poured from his eyes, and made them sting. How many years had it been since the last time he cried? He let out a small sound of pain, before burying his face in his brother's scarred neck.

Sweat and tears mixed up. His shoulders were shaking and louder and louder sounds escaped him as he cried against Rocinante's skin. He could feel cold hands stroking his head, and fingers pushing through his hair. Calming him, and yet making him cry that much more. Perhaps the tears would never stop.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_December 23rd 1940_

_ South London, England_

Whether it was desperation or kindness that had caused the base-operator to give the pilots a day off, nobody knew. But that didn't mean that they wouldn't take full advantage of it, by going into town, some even got to see their families. Perhaps it was the Christmas-spirit that did it? But did something as innocent as that exist in times of war? Doflamingo had declined everyone's invitations, and he hadn't really been polite. He wasn't in the mood for spending time with recruits or other 'experienced' pilots. To him, they were unimportant. Or perhaps it was because he knew they would all die?

Over a month had passed since Rocinante had cut his mouth. Doflamingo was used to looking at his face by now, and he was in the process of trying to forgive himself. He had played the scene over and over in his head. Rocinante had said that he had seen him upset. When had he showed his emotions? When had he pushed his brother over the edge? He knew the answer, but wouldn't admit it. Things he didn't understand were easier to deal with. The problem was just that Doflamingo understood most things. His brother understood everything too, but at the same time, he understood nothing. His naive little brother, who deserved heaven and had received hell. A part of Doflamingo wondered if earth was good enough for Rocinante. But he had stopped believing in heaven and in God. So, after this life, there was nothing.

This was something he believed to both comfort and scare himself. If there was nothing left after death, he wouldn't have to be afraid of dying. But at the same time, the knowledge that he would become one with nothingness when his heart stopped beating was terrifying.

The two brothers walked side by side on the dusty street. A kind breeze was pushing them gently in the back, but it was cold as ice. Well, everybody knew that England wasn't known for its warm winters. Doflamingo watched as his brother's ears turned more and more pink, and knew his own ears probably looked the same, though at least he was wearing a hat.

Doflamingo thought the city looked... Wrong. That was the only way to describe it. The signs of a country in war, mixed with desperate attempts to hold onto the holiday of Christmas was a bad mix. It ended up looking like nobody cared about Christmas, and nobody took the war seriously. Or, perhaps he just couldn't see the disgusting beauty of it? But was that really so strange?

Was it strange that a man like him couldn't understand what was beautiful, and what wasn't?

Over 20 000 civilians had lost their lives due to the_ Blitz_. Recently, there had been massive attacks on both Liverpool and Manchester, and hundreds of thousands didn't even have a home anymore. Also, there were the more than 40 000 British soldiers who had been taken captive.

As they walked past the dark houses, Doflamingo thought back to their childhood.

The memory was far, far away, but he could still see his mother's face reflected on the cold glass of the windows. A child, about five years old ran past him. It was Rocinante from another time, laughing and holding a new toy. It was a plane. Another boy ran after him, and Doflamingo could hear the distant sound of a seven year old attempting to make a plane-engine sound. The two boys ran away from the older versions of themselves, and disappeared in the distance. The laugher remained for an eternity, though Doflamingo only walked a few steps to pass it.

Most shops were closed, and they passed dozens of signs saying 'out of business' in different ways, some more creative than others. Doflamingo almost snorted at one that said 'to hell with this'.

Rocinante lit a cigarette, and for the next minutes they were walking with the smoke. Rocinante's hands were pink from the cold, just like his ears. Doflamingo wondered just how cold they were. Like ice, maybe? Or even colder?

The younger stopped in front of a window, which had a big crack in it. Doflamingo looked inside, to see an abandoned bakery, or something of the sort. The exhibition window was empty, but he imagined it to once have been filled with delicious cakes. Rocinante leaned against the window, like he was admiring the cakes that should've been there. He breathed on the glass, and used his index finger to wipe away the condensation. Oh, he was writing something?

"_What_" the letters faded slowly. Doflamingo moved closer. Rocinante shifted his head to the side, and breathed again "_Do_" was the next word. He repeated the procedure. "_You_" and then "_Want_" He took a step to the side, in need of more space. "_Want_" What he wanted? That was a really good question, one he couldn't answer, not even to himself. "_For_" Rocinante wrote, and then the final word. "_Christmas_". Doflamingo could only see the first four letters, but he knew the word.

_What do you want for Christmas?_

That was the question. His brother looked at him, and his scars formed a smile that shouldn't look that peaceful. It shouldn't look that gentle and kind, but it did. And Doflamingo loved it. He despised himself for that, but couldn't help it. Rocinante's face wA just the most beautiful thing in the world right now, yes, probably, it had always been. Doflamingo just hadn't known.

A snowflake landed on the shorter man's nose, melting almost immediately, but not as quickly as it should. The next one got caught on his eyelash and stayed longer. Soon, small balls of white fluff fell around them like candy from a scenery none of them would ever live to see.

The distant sound of an ambulance echoed, but didn't reach them, for they were trapped in each other's eyes again. A summer day meeting the winter, except, something was different this time. No, that wasn't it. It wasn't different. Doflamingo just thought of it that way, because it was ages since he had seen that look in his brother's eyes. A lifetime had passed, but now he could fall into that blue sky, and pretend that it filled the hole in his chest. Oh, how he loved pretending.

_ What do I want for Christmas?_

He had asked him a question after all, it was only fair that he'd answer. But what? What did anyone wish for these days? For the war to stop? For England to win? For peace and a long life? For loved ones to be safe?

The sound of the ambulance reached him, and he knew what he wanted.

"Silence." He said. The word got stuck in the air, and hung there. He let it fade. The snow kept falling.

He expected Rocinante to look confused. Who could understand what he meant? "I just want it all to go quiet." He mumbled. The words fell to the ground, but Rocinante picked them up, and nodded. Why did he do that?

Why did he nod when he couldn't possibly understand?

They continued on their way, though they didn't have a destination. Despite that, Doflamingo was glad they hadn't stayed at the base. Walking with his brother like this, in silence was almost just like their old lives. Rocinante had never talked in public anyway, so his mutism didn't even count right now.

They came to a bar, which, judging from the sounds, was full of soldiers having a merry time. Rocinante grabbed a hold of Doflamingo's sleeve, and pointed at the door.

"You want to go inside?" The mute nodded. "I don't really feel like hanging out with-" Rocinante pulled him inside, totally ignoring the loud protests.

Alcohol in wartime was expensive, just like everything else a person could buy to spoil themselves. But soon, Doflamingo found himself by a table, with a beer in his hand and lively soldiers laughing and joking all around him. Why were they so cheerful? Didn't they know what was going on? Didn't they realize which way this war was heading? Surely, Doflamingo couldn't be the only one who doubted the Empire would prevail? Was he the only one who thought the German army was too much for them to take on?

Maybe they all knew. Maybe that was the very reason why they laughed louder than they should. Maybe that was why all the jokes were twice as funny. And maybe that was why Doflamingo's own laughter soon joined in.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch. Those injuries look like enough to break any man, and you're still flying?" Someone asked Rocinante, who nodded eagerly.

"Here's to the brave RAF pilots! The pride of England!" A soldier raised his glass, and soon, everybody followed. A look of pride and a slight blush was on Rocinante's face, and he was smiling.

"And a toast to the very best among them, the Bird!" A man pointed at Doflamingo, and everyone cheered and lifted their glasses again.

More jokes were told, more stories shared. More toasts to brave men and future victories. Everything had an ironic tone to it, and nothing was taken seriously. Time flew by like it didn't even exist, and even though they mostly talked about the war, it was almost as if that wasn't real either. They were talking about a movie that they just happened to be a part of.

Doflamingo couldn't remember his mood being this good since the summer before the war. He had made so many new friends, who he would probably never see again, but he would remember them. This had been exactly what he needed.

It wasn't snowing anymore, and the sky was clear, which was fortunate. The streets of London were dark, but the moonlight guided their steps. Well, Doflamingo's steps at least. Rocinante fell and tripped at least four times before they were safely back at the base. It had been a long walk, and Doflamingo was tired. But not the exhausted kind of tired that he usually was. No, this time he was just content. This had been a good day, and the only one who could take credit for that was Rocinante.

They stopped outside in the December night, and looked up at the sky, because that was where they both belonged. None of them wondered when they would fly again, or when the next attack would be. They only admired the star filled roof above them. Each light shone with a special promise of a good memory soon to be made.

Silence. Not around him, but inside his head and heart. He took a deep breath, like the air would seal the feeling forever. It was just a dream, and tomorrow was one too. Doflamingo had never been a dreamer, unlike his brother, but if he could keep on feeling like this, then he wouldn't mind trying. The world was cold, but he was not. Not when a freezing hand took his, and starlight met his eyes to welcome him back to his summer day.

It wasn't even dawn when Doflamingo was pulled from his sleep by a poke to his cheek. Whatever it was that had poked him did it again, and again, until he had to open his eyes. His internal clock yelled that it was way too early. The smiling face of his brother met him, and he groaned.

"Roci, it's too early. I don't get up this early, unless for the alarm." He mumbled, trying to sound more sleepy than he was. And then he turned, facing the wall. A complete rejection, at least he thought so. But Rocinante wouldn't be put off that easily. The younger brother slipped a cold hand underneath the sheets, tickling Doflamingo's sides. He couldn't help but laugh and try to retreat further away, but the bed wasn't very big, and Rocinante easily followed. "Alright! Alright!" If the hands hadn't been so damned cold... He wasn't actually that ticklish. He turned back to look at his brother, who had a very satisfied, and stupid-looking grin on his face. He really was childish, wasn't he?

"What do you want this early? Damn it..." His voice was completely stripped of anger, it actually sounded pretty curious. Because what reason did Rocinante have to wake him up like this? The mute put his hands together, forming what in a shadow-show would look like a butterfly, and flapped its wings. The meaning was clear enough. "You want to fly?" He didn't see the point of waking up early just for that. It wasn't like they would get the day off just because it was Christmas day. He doubted the germans would give them room to breathe.

Rocinante nodded, and attempted to drag his brother out of bed. It ended with them both falling on the floor, loud protest and a few curses coming from the older one.

However, a few minutes later, Doflamingo was dressed in his uniform, and they were heading out.

The walk took an unexpected turn, when Rocinante grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the half-ruined hangar. It still hadn't been fixed since the bombing in October. Their spitfires weren't kept in the hangar, so why would they go there? Doflamingo's confusion was obvious, but the mute couldn't really answer him.

"Where are we going?" He asked all the same.

The morning air was sharp and refreshing, though his ears were cold. He put on his helmet to save them. Rocinante lead him to the training planes, and soon they stood in front of a Hawker Hart. This was the only Hawker-plane they had on the base. It was a two-seater biplane, and a light bomber, though it was only used for training. Doflamingo knew it hadn't been up in the air in months. Rocinante pointed at it.

It took a few moments before he realized what he was asking.

"You want to fly it?" The other nodded, and pointed at Doflamingo, and then at himself. "With me? You want us to fly it together?" Another nod, eager and that perfect smile.

"Roci, we can't. We don't even know if it has fuel..." The younger nodded again, his smile never leaving his scarred lips.

_Fuck it._

Why not? A quick flight. It couldn't hurt, surely?

"Let's do it." He said. Rocinante looked a little surprised, like he hadn't expected him to agree, but most of all, he looked overjoyed. His mouth opened slightly, as if to make a sound or maybe a word. But he was a mute, so nothing came out.

They both quickly put on overalls, goggles and fastened their helmets, before they climbed aboard the plane. It was nothing like his kite, but he knew how to fly it. It was a plane after all, and he was a very good pilot. It didn't take long before they were on the runway, and then they left the ground while the sun was still under the horizon.

The sky was painted in pink and yellow and gold, and they headed straight towards where the sun would soon rise from. Doflamingo took them higher.

And this was the moment. The moment when the sun slipped past the earth to welcome them to a new day. This was the time when time wasn't there. The engine went quiet. He couldn't hear the sound of the wind passing them in a speed of 200 km/h.

This wasn't just a moment, this was a memory, just like the stars had promised not twelve hours ago. And he remembered. This was what it felt like to fly. This was what it had always felt like. This was why he loved the air. This was why he was a bird. He spread his wings as he carried them higher and higher.

How could he have forgotten this feeling? This feeling of total freedom. The feeling of time disappearing, and yet passing so slow. It wasn't a movie, and it wasn't a play. It wasn't a story read by his bed, no. It was the truth and he knew that.

This was flying.

He couldn't see his brother's face, but he knew he was smiling. Whatever piece he was missing inside of him didn't matter, because he was a bird, and he was free.

So this was silence.

So this was Rocinante's Christmas present to him.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The base did its best to keep some sort of Christmas spirit. They pretended the food tasted better than usual, and after the meal, bottles containing God knows what were passed around. The two people who made sure that this was the best evening they had had in ages, were the Donquixote brothers.

Doflamingo was in an excellent mood, all thanks to Rocinante. After all, he had showed him what it was like to fly again. He had showed him silence, and Doflamingo was so thankful. He had yet to tell the other that, but how could he express it anyway? Wasn't 'Thank you' just as shallow as 'I'm sorry'? What good did words to anyone? Rocinante had made Doflamingo happy, and he hadn't used a single word. Doflamingo wanted to do the same for his brother, but had no idea how. He wasn't like that. He couldn't read his brother's mind.

But he could try.

The older man had turned on the gramophone, and a jolly tune which was literally meant for dancing was playing. He had quite forgotten the name of the song, despite having heard it about a million times.

"Oh! Guess who wants to dance this time!" William clapped his hands, urging Doflamingo to continue. Everytime that man spoke, Doflamingo always wondered how long he would live. After all, all the other pilots he had known this long had died. But that thought didn't cross his mind today. For this was a good day.

The other pilots soon joined in, cheering for the older brother. He reached out his hand to Rocinante, who took it instantly. A wide grin spread across the mute's face. He hadn't seen him smile that much in a while, and it excited him. At the same time, something inside of him calmed down. Like he had been afraid of something, but had now found a safe harbour.

The two brothers moved onto the floor, more cheers following each step they took. The music was almost drowned by the applause.

This was how professional dancers felt it, he thought. Maybe after the war, they could do something fun like this. Dance in front of an audience. That was just a silly thought, but it was such a long time since he had thought about what was going to come after the war. Maybe he hadn't thought about it at all. Because he hadn't thought that they could win. But hope had started growing in his chest again when he learned how to fly anew.

Doflamingo's plan had been to dance with Rocinante, but he soon found that it was himself that was being danced with, seeing as Roci took the lead. He was a much better dancer after all, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

As he was guided across the floor, it wasn't just his feet that were guided. No, he saw where he had to go. What he had to do to get by. What he had to do to keep Rocinante happy. He saw it all so clearly, and it was easy. He could fly and he could dance, and he could keep seeing that beautiful smile on the other's scarred face. And it would be okay.

He could do this.

The music and the spirit of Christmas lured the nurses and the two waitresses into the room. The women and men usually lived very separately, for obvious reasons. But it was Christmas, and for all anybody knew, the Germans could decide to send a ride of bombs as a gift, and then they'd all be dead tomorrow. How many times hadn't that joke been made during this week? Apparently, nobody believed in jinxing anymore.

It was good that the girls arrived, because now more of the pilots got to dance. Doflamingo kept to his partner, and wouldn't want another one, even though many of the girls were rather pretty, and all of them had eyes for him. Well, no wonder. When it came to looks, Doflamingo was prettier than any of them, boys and girls included. He was tall and handsome. Really, everything about appearance was appealing. And everybody thought he was brave, and they knew he was the best pilot at the base, and had a good chance at surviving the war. But could they see what he was like inside? He doubted it. Nobody knew that there was a part of him missing. Not even Rocinante knew that.

Despite it not even being enough partners for all the boys, a woman soon approached the brothers. Clearly to ask Doflamingo if he wouldn't consider dancing with her. She was a redhead, with freckles that complimented her pale skin. And her eyes were blue, which was a plus. Doflamingo had always thought blue eyes were the prettiest.

It was one of his favorite things about Rocinante's looks too. His gorgeous, summer day eyes. They were the spitting image of good. He could only wish that the light behind them would never disappear. He would do all he could to keep it burning, so that whenever he looked into them, he could be back, dancing with a summer breeze. Back home.

The woman wasn't looking at him, but at his brother.

"Would you care to dance with me?" She asked. She knew Rocinante a little, since she had treated his wounds before. If she hadn't, she never would've dared to ask him to dance. It was unusual for a girl to ask a man in the first place, and Rocinante was probably one of the most awkward people to deal with in these kinds of situations. Was it just his imagination, or did Roci just tighten the grip on his hand?

He wanted to tell her to back off. But what kind of brother would he be then? What brother would keep his younger one from dancing with a pretty girl? He remembered how shy Rocinante always seemed around the opposite sex. Even before he couldn't talk. He had never even seen him talk to a woman before. Well, now that was out of the question anyway, but he could still dance with one.

Doflamingo squeezed the hand back, and didn't let go.

"He's already got a partner, as you can see." He said, trying not to sound rude. But everything about his tone told her to back the hell off. She looked a little embarrassed, and without saying anything, she left them alone. It wasn't like nobody else wanted to dance with her. There was a whole line of men.

Doflamingo was a little annoyed to be honest. Why did she have to ask Roci for a dance? There were pilots in the room practically drooling at her. Couldn't she just pick one of them? There was only one explanation. She had to be attracted to Rocinante. Maybe even in love with him.

_ In your fucking dreams!_

Without really thinking, he pulled his brother into a hug. Locking his arms around him and pressing their bodies hard together. This hug wasn't just an embrace, it was a statement. Rocinante was his. He belonged to him. And him alone.

_December 29th 1940, 10.02 PM_

_ London, England_

How many planes did the germans have? How many bombs? How many trained pilots? Endless. Endless was the answer. There was no way the Empire could beat such an overwhelming military force. The RAF didn't stand a chance.

These were Doflamingo's thoughts. Yes, probably all members of the RAF thought that. Except Rocinante, perhaps. Though his permanently smiling face was very hard to read. Had Doflamingo been able to understand him better if he didn't have the scars? No. That was just a pathetic excuse. Where was the path he had seen so clearly? He had gotten lost in his own tracks, and was heading down the same road like before.

The two brothers had just spent three hours in the air, trying to chase light and heavy bombers away from the city. Doflamingo's head was clanging, and even though his feet were now on the ground, he still reached for the wheel. A strong hand grabbed him by the arm, and guided him towards the truck. What he needed was sleep and rest, and a meal. But there was no time.

He was thankful that Rocinante's hand kept holding onto him, or he would've tried to run away.

London was on fire.

Black smoke covered the freezing nightsky, blocking the stars forever. With those lights gone, what would shine with the promise of new memories? Not even the moonlight could fight off the clouds. The air was heavy to breathe, but maybe that was just his imagination.

The city looked so pretty in a sickening way. The smoke was coloured in orange and yellow from the raging flames. Some of them were big enough to reach above the roofs and glow into the night. In a way, they held their own promise. A promise of death to all.

Doflamingo was no coward (at least he liked to believe that), but as the truck drove off, he couldn't keep his body from trembling slightly. A part of him believed that if Rocinante hadn't had that iron-grip on his arm, he would've jumped off the vechle and made a run for it. But London needed all the help it could get, and therefor, all the pilots on the airbase were deployed to help put out the fire, which would go down in history as 'the second great fire of London'. Of course, Doflamingo didn't know that, nor did any of the other pilots.

Their ride met up with a group of firemen, who were very thankful for the extra manpower. Doflamingo was aployed to evacuate as many as possible from where the fire was spreading, while Rocinante was to help with trying to control the fire.

They weren't even all that close to the flames, but the heat was still strangling. A december evening wasn't supposed to be this hot. It was just wrong. An illusion sent to scare them and rid them of their will to fight against the Wehrmacht. In Doflamingo's case, it was working. The sight of London, the city where he grew up, burning, chilled him to the bones. Oddly enough, one might think, considering the heat.

But Doflamingo was shivering. He looked to Rocinante for support. But all he saw in his eyes was the reflection of their burning capital.

Chaos, that was the only way to describe the whole situation. Orders were yelled back and forth. Firetrucks arrived and headed for places that were way too risky. Water was splashed everywhere, and above them was the threatening sky that looked like a thunderstorm about to explode.

Because nobody was really sure what was happening, Doflamingo grabbed his brother and pulled him with him. He didn't want him to go any closer to the fire. Evacuating sivilians were probably way safer. Rocinante was no fireman, and he shouldn't try to act like one.

There were no protests from the mute as they ran in the direction Doflamingo had been showed. Time was of the eccense. The breeze would bring the fire to these houses in just a few minutes, unless the firemen managed to keep it under control. That wasn't even a possibility, so Doflamingo knew they had to act quickly.

"Take that house, I'll take this one." He told Rocinatne, and pointed at two houses that lay next to each other.

Many people in London had chosen to evacuate, and many children had been sent away. All young men (and older ones too) served the war in some way, and wouldn't be home on a day like this. So, most of the people in the houses would be women of different ages. Some children too, of course.

The door to the house he had chosen was locked, and he knocked fanatically on it. He couldn't waste a single second. A loud noise reached him, and he saw Rocinante simply kick the door open and rush inside. Right. The houses wouldn't be standing when morning came anyway, so he didn't have to care about breaking a door. He rammed his shoulder against it, and though it hurt, the door opened.

His shoulder was numb for a moment, but he hardly noticed. He entered the hallway.

"Hello?! Is anybody here?!" He yelled, and got no answer. He knew he had to check the house anyway, so he went further inside. In the livingroom, under the table, a woman was sitting with her infant son.

"Come on. I'll get you out of here." Doflamingo held out his hand. Her eyes were big and wild, and the look of total terror radiated from them like lightening. "Come on." Doflamingo repeated, and leaned down a little. She shook her head. She was in shock, poor thing, and couldn't move it would seem. But Doflamingo didn't feel sorry for her, not even for a second. His face turned into an angry frown. "Come on, or you'll both die!" He yelled at her. He couldn't believe that anyone could be that stupid. Would she let herself and her son die just because she was too fucking scared to move? That was ridicilous! What if everybody acted like that? The world would burn down then, would she be happy about that? He clenched his fists.

A sudden movement beside him startled him a little, and pulled him away from his anger. It was Rocinante. He kneeled down and reached under the table. With no sign of pity, he grabbed the woman by the arm, and dragged her out. She yelped in pain, and hugged her son tightly. Doflamingo just watched as his brother picked her up to carry her outside.

They came back onto the street, where an old woman was lying on the ground. Rocinante had probably just dropped her there, just like he now did with the mother and her son. Doflamingo caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes. Rocinante looked so distant. Where was he? Where was Roci? Without warning, the younger grabbed Doflamingo's jaw hard enough for it to hurt. He forced him to face him, and stared deep into his soul. Looking at the piece of him that was missing.

The words written in his eyes were clear as day.

_Pull yourself together_

Rocinante let go of him, and Doflamingo had to check if his jaw was still intact, because hell, it didn't feel like it was in place. He didn't get much time to care about himself, because he was pulled to the next house.

From here on, Doflamingo followed his brother's tacktics of just carrying whoever was inside. No time was wasted with words, which was for the better. Doflamingo had no need to comfort anyone. He felt nothing. He didn't care that they lost their homes. This was war, and he had seen his comerades burn in the sky, so this was nothing. Well, that statement wasn't entrily true. To Doflamingo, this burning city was a symbol.

A symbol of the Empire's loss.

Doflamingo came out of the eight house, but didn't see Rocinante. They always met up after each house, just to confirm that they were both okay. But nobody was there. Despite everything he had experienced, he couldn't keep panic from hunting him down. It dove down on him and he was trapped. He hurried inside the house Rocinante was supposed to come out from.

"Roci!" He yelled, not caring that his voice gave away just how worried he was. The possibiliyt that Rocinante was just spending a little more time on this house didn't cross his mind. All that was clear to him was that Rocinante wasn't supposed to still be inside.

He wasn't downstairs, but when Doflamingo ran up, he found him. Just seeing him in one piece was a huge relief. He wondered when he had grown this worried about his younger brother. Sure, he had always been protective towards him, but not this much. It was like being away from him for one minute more than planned was keeping him from breathing. Like Rocinante wasn't just his summer day, but his air too. Or maybe Doflamingo could only breathe during summer?

Rocinante had picked up two children, but there were still two more. Doflamingo helped him with them, and they exited the house together.

They were coming closer to the fire now, and Doflamingo stopped Rocinante when he wanted to go inside another house.

"It's too risky." He told him, but the other didn't listen. He just pushed Doflamingo in the direction of the other house, and the cold look in his eyes scared him. Rocinante wasn't supposed to look like that. But the summer in his eyes wasn't there anymore. Doflamingo had taken it away. How? Why? He had no idea. He didn't understand.

He did as his brother had directed, and headed into the house.

This one was (luckily) already empty.

He hurried back outside.

The air was heavy, and the smell of smoke wanted to suffocate him. Ashes fell from the sky, and landed in his hair like snow. But ash wasn't like snow. Snow was pure and cold, while ashes was nothing but the faint remembrance of something else. It had all belonged to something else, once. A home, maybe. A home where a family lived and laughed, just like the home Doflamingo had left a lifetime ago.

Maybe that was why Rocinante was acting the way he was? Was this because he couldn't save their parents? Did he blame himself? Or maybe he blamed the world for not coming to their rescue. Did he think he could make up for it by saving all these people? If that was the case - what a silly little brother he had. These people weren't their parents, and no matter how much they tried to care about their lives, they would never matter. This was war after all, and people died all the time. If one was supposed to weep for every single fallen person, then one would flood the land with tears. Doflamingo cared about one person, and one person only.

Rocinante didn't come out of the house, and the fire was spreading quickly. Just like last time, Doflamingo was hit by the feeling of panic. A fear that tore through him, and sent images of his brother burning to death in front of his eyes. It was almost like he could reach out and touch the black skin, and smell the scent of burnt flesh. A smell he knew all too well.

Without hesitating for single second, he ran inside the house. The house was in a worse shape than he had thought, because as soon as he entered, smoke hit his face, and he coughed. While covering his mouth, he quickly searched the ground floor, but didn't see Rocinante. He tried calling for him, but obviously got no answer.

When had he become this afraid, he wondered. This indescribable fear of losing Roci was unlike anything he had experienced before. And compared to the dogfights they encountered every day, this was nothing. Then why? Why!? Why did his heart beat up his throat, threatening to climb out of his mouth and jump into the flames. What had changed?

The heat was dancing in the air, and flames made magical shadows on the walls. They looked like creatures from the dark, come to take them away. But after this life, there was nothing. Doflamingo was sure about that.

Going upstairs was risky. This house was already dangerous to be inside. But he didn't think about that when he ran up the stairs. The sound of his feet mixed with the crackling sound from the flames was a concert for the monsters on the walls. And they liked it, it would seem, for they grew in size. Doflamingo didn't notice it.

Rocinante was carrying a child on his back, and another one was clinging to his arm. Okay, so why hadn't he left the house yet? Doflamingo soon got his answer. He heard a faint cry coming from the doorway Rocinante was standing in. From the light on his face, it was clear that that room was on fire. The mute pulled the kid off his back, and pushed him against his sisters chest. They both fell to the floor from the weight.

"Roci, no!" Doflamingo was over by his side, and grabbed his arm before he could head into the room. The flames were all over it, licking alongside the bed where a woman sat, holding the third and youngest child. Rocinante tore himself from the grip, and gritted his teeth in an angry growl, which came out silent. "It's too dangerous. I won't let you." He took a hold of him again, stronger this time, with both his hands. The younger struggled to break free. "We have to go!" Doflamingo told him. The sounds coming from downstairs were clear signs of the fire spreading. If the staircase caught on fire, they would be trapped here.

Was Rocinante brave?

Or was Doflamingo a coward?

Perhaps, the younger was just an idiot, and Doflamingo was an ever bigger fool for loving him so much.

There was no way Doflamingo could drag his brother with him, while helping the children. They were both crying, begging them to save their mother and brother. Doflamingo couldn't even hear their words. The winter in his eyes fought them all off, and concentrated only on holding Rocinante back.

But the mute wasn't weak. Finally, he managed to pull free of the grip Doflamingo had on him, and before he could get ahold of him again, he pushed him backwards. Doflamingo almost lost his footing, and crashed against the wall behind them. In the next second, Rocinante jumped into the room.

Doflamingo heard his own voice call out a protest, but his brain was too busy focusing on what he was seeing. Flames grasped at Rocinante and tried to pull him down, but he wasn't going anywhere. He was over by the bed in a few long steps, and while protecting the woman from the burning inferno, he went back into the hallway. Doflamingo could breathe again.

He had been willing to sacrifice the lives of the woman and the infant, just to keep Rocinante from a little danger. Well 'a little', it had been a pretty big risk going into the room. But when he now stood in front of him, a little burnt, but still okay, it didn't seem like that big of a deal.

_ When did I start loving you this much? _

Or maybe that was a wrong question to ask. How did one measure love anyway? If Doflamingo had been any sort of decent person, he would've gone into the room himself, without hesitation.

But a part of him was still missing. He was hollow, somewhere inside.

The brothers helped the family, and they were about to go back down, when they realized it was too late. If Doflamingo had just acted right away...

The staircase was on fire, and the flames were way too big for them to simply run through. They would have to escape through one of the windows. In the only bedroom that wasn't on fire yet, there was a rather large window. That would just have to do.

It was a rather long drop to the ground, but it wouldn't be fatal. The family was terrified. Well, Doflamingo wasn't calm either. His pulse was drumming in his ears. The only one who seemed to keep a somewhat cool head was Rocinante.

And then the ceiling collapsed.

He heard screams. Did one of them belong to himself? That, he did not know. A burning pain spread across his face. His vision failed him for a second, and for that moment, everything was a terrifying darkness.

The smell of smoke and burnt flesh and tears brought him back to hell. He managed to get to his feet, mostly because he was pulled up by someone. His brother, of course. He held his face. God it hurt. Something had gotten in his left eye, and it watered over. The fact that he couldn't see with the damaged eye scared him so much he forgot about his surroundings. He forgot that his brother was there, and the house was burning. He forgot about the children and the woman.

They say that in moments like these, time slows down. But in Doflamingo's case, it wasn't like that. Everything seemed to pass his one good eye at double speed. At the end of a long corridor that reached across two runways, he could see Rocinante push away remains of the ceiling, digging out the family. He could see him hold up the youngest boy by his arm, and then drop him to the floor like he was some kind of doll. Even further away, he could see the tears stream down the woman's face as she leaned down to pick up the dead doll.

Rocinante helped the family out of the window, but it was still far, far away from Doflamingo.

And then he was close again.

He knew the pain was there when his wrist was grabbed in a claw-like grip. But he couldn't feel it, because he couldn't see with his left eye.

He didn't even feel it when his feet his the ground. Nor did he head his pained cry, or see Rocinante jump down beside him. It was like none of it happened to him. Just the pain in his eye, and the tears trying to save it.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_ The Bird is grounded._

_ He can't fly anymore._

_ He is blind._

Those were the rumours spreading around the base. Who has seen what, and who had heard what, and what was true, nobody really knew. The pilots tried to interrogate Rocinante, but, needless to say, they didn't get so much as a word out of him.

The bandage was slowly removed from his face, like it was all some kind of sick joke. A part of him wanted the nurse to hurry and just get it over with. Another, and perhaps bigger part, didn't want to see what was underneath. A mirror had been placed in his hands, and he clenched his fingers tightly around it. Maybe it would break, and he would receive seven years of bad luck? Or was it eight? Not that it mattered. It wasn't like things could get any worse anyway.

The nurse finally pulled the bandage all the way off, and he could see the damage.

His left eye was pale, and cloudy, with stains of blood around it. He looked away from the mirror, too disgusted with what he saw. Slowly, he looked back into it. There weren't too many burn marks on his face, and those he had, didn't look so bad. They would heal. But the question was - would his eye?

"Can you see with your left eye?" the nurse asked. She cared about him, he could hear it in her voice. Maybe she even liked him. Would anyone like him when his face looked like this? The only thing he could 'see' with his left eye was blurry lights and shadows, nothing more.

"No." He answered, heavily.

He knew what this meant. He knew what would happen.

Just because he knew the consequences of his injury, it didn't get any better when he got it confirmed. He thought he was prepared, but he was anything but.

The consultant on the base, who everybody knew was an excellent doctor, was a man in his early fifties. His hair was gray, and had probably been for years already. He had that worried, but comforting expression on his face, and it seemed to be permanent. He stood by Doflamingo's bed with some forms in his hands. Doflamingo could see with his one good eye that the doctor's lips were moving, forming words. He just didn't want to hear them.

"I'm sorry, Donquixote. But you can't fly anymore."

It was almost like he could see the words written in the air. Could see them hover over him and dive down to crush him. And they did. The impact was harder than he had imagined, and he had to take a deep breath. But that was impossible, for he had forgotten how to breathe.

For about five hours, he just stared at the doctor, and held his breath.

"You won't take my wings." He finally said, after about two days had passed. He had yet to breathe.

"I'm sorry. I know you're a good pilot, but in your current condition-" Doflamingo cut him off with a sharp inhale. His lungs were finally working again.

"You will not take my wings!"

"I can understand your-"

"No! No you don't understand! I can still fly!" He could hear that his voice was about to tear up, and then he would maybe even start crying. He didn't want to show such a pathetic side of him, but was too terrified of reality to control himself.

"You can't." The doctor said.

"I can! I have to! Please I..." He stopped talking, and covered his mouth.

His shoulders were shaking violently, and he closed his eyes shut tightly in an attempt to block it all out. He knew there was only seconds before he would start crying. His breathing was quickening, like his body was shutting down.

He would've cried, if it hadn't been for the sudden embrace he found himself in. Someone was hugging him.

In a confused moment, he thought it was the nurse, hell, even the doctor. But there was only one person in the world who smelled like this. Only one person who would hug him so tightly it felt like his ribs were going to break from the pressure. Nobody else would stay quiet like this. The breath against his ear was the only sound he could hear.

Rocinante's strong arms held him, and kept him safe. The truth couldn't reach him. It was almost like flying.

"They're going to take my wings, Roci. They're going to ground me. I can't fly anymore." He whispered. The grip around him tightened, and he was sure he heard his ribs crack. But it felt so nice to be trapped in this cage of his brother's arms. He hoped he would hold onto him forever. Apparently, Rocinante understood that, because he didn't let go.

The sounds in the room disappeared. The only thing he heard was Roci's steady breathing, and slightly escalated heartbeat. Both were soothing, and maybe for as long as he was held, he felt like everything was going to be alright.

He felt the world crumble when Rocinante let him go. A cold hand grabbed his chin, and pulled him closer. Yes, of course, he wanted to look at his wounded face. The pain in his eye was pretty bad, and the knowledge that he would never fly again didn't make it any better. Rocinante trailed a finger across Doflamingo's burning skin. The touch hurt, and he flinched away, but was held firmly in place. He tried to read from his face what he was thinking, but it was impossible. The finger pressed harder against his wound, and he gasped in pain.

"Roci, be a little more gentle will you?" The pain was enough for him to ask something like that. The younger moved even closer, and Doflamingo tried to pull away. Again, he was prevented from doing so by Rocinante's grip on his jaw. Dry, scared lips pressed against his eyelid. They were cold, though probably not. He let out a small breath, and wondered if he was enjoying the feeling of the kiss or not. It made his eye hurt like hell, enough for his good one to water over. But he didn't want Roci to stop. He moved his hand to the back of Rocinante's head, and pushed, causing the pressure on his eye to increase. It hurt. Tears of pain trailed down his face, and his breathing became shallow. But he wanted his brother close like this. Just like this.

It was the middle of the night, and Doflamingo lay awake in the infirmary, listening to the sounds of people dying. The wheezing sound of lungs that were giving up. And coughing and moans of pain. The room was dark, and he had the feeling that his bed was floating on a river. He wished he would just fall asleep already, so that he wouldn't have to think. His thoughts were mostly about what he was supposed to do now. He couldn't fly anymore. Then what could he do? Would he have to leave the base? He knew he would. But how could he go when his brother was still here? The thought of being separated from him made his gut twist, and he almost felt like throwing up.

He was a pilot. Flying was his life. And Rocinante was the most important person in that life. Would both be taken away from him? How much would he have to lose before he had made amends for the hole in his chest? Did God or whoever it was that threw this all on him that the part of him that was missing would just come back? It wouldn't! Something was wrong with him, he admitted that, but that didn't mean it would get better if he was punished for it! He was born like this, it wasn't his fault.

This was so unfair he could scream.

He had lost his parents. He had lost Rocinante's voice, and now he would lose his wings too? And maybe never see his brother again?

Hopelessness took him, and carried him away.

Down they went, down and down in a drowning dance. Doflamingo let Hopelessness take the lead. What else could he do?

His good eye registered a movement in the dark, and he heard footsteps. Probably just one of the nurses coming to check up. No. That would have to be a very tall nurse then, because that silhouette was that of a man. A man with really messy hair. He couldn't remember any of the doctors having hair like that. The person was heading for his bed.

Rocinante.

A moment later, a new weight was added on the bed as the younger brother sat down. He felt cold, bony fingers push through his hair, gently tugging it. With just a simple touch like this, Hopelessness ran away, scared of dying at the hands of the mute angel. Doflamingo let out a relieved sigh. He wondered why Roci had come. To save him, of course. Rocinante always saved him from everything. He was his summer day after all.

Nothing was said between them. Doflamingo didn't know if Roci had anything he wanted to say. There were many things on his mind. For example, the fact that he blamed Rocinante for what had happened. No matter how he looked at it, it was his fault he couldn't fly anymore. He had told him not to go into the house. He had said that it was too dangerous. Why couldn't he just listen to him for once? It was impossible to be angry with him though. Not when he stroked his hair like that. And the smile and the scars. No, he just loved him too much.

Rocinante lay down on the bed, which was way too small for two people. It didn't seem like he cared though, because he crawled under the covers. His body pressed against Doflamingo's. It was cold.

"You're cold." Doflamingo's voice was weak from not being used in a while. He was thankful that they both were wearing pyjama, or it would've been even colder. He wondered why Rocinante's skin was always so chilling. Maybe his was just unnaturally warm?

Fingers trailed across his neck, making him shiver slightly.

"Stop. It tickles." He told him. Rocinante didn't stop. He just moved his fingers alongside the vein, all the way down to his collar bones. Doflamingo could hear someone's pulse quickening. Was it is own, or was it Roci's? His brother's heartbeat was always so steady, so it had to be his own then.

The hand moved upwards again, and two fingers slid over his bottom lip. Far enough inside to get a little wet, though Doflamingo's mouth was dry right now. He swallowed hard.

The touches were so light and so innocent, and yet, a huge red light was blinking in front of Doflamingo's one good eye. He wasn't sure why. Surely, there was nothing wrong with sharing a bed? Well, they were way too old for it, but he was hurt and needed comfort. Or maybe Rocinante was the one who needed comfort right now.

"Stop." The word was so quiet, and completely empty. He didn't mean it at all. Rocinante moved the two fingers away from his mouth, still on his skin though. A small trail of Doflamingo's saliva was left behind. "Stop." He breathed out. "Rocinante, you have to stop."

_Why?_

He didn't want to answer that question, because the answer made him disgusted with himself and his brother and this whole thing. He would never answer, no matter what.

Rocinante removed his hand, and even though Doflamingo pretended it never happened, he did let out a small sound of disappointment. The younger placed his head in the crook of the other's neck. His breath was anything but cold at least. It tickled him a little bit, and made his skin wet and probably rather sticky.

The steady breathing made him fall asleep, just like it always did.

Sometime during the early hours of the morning, Rocinante left.

Doflamingo was standing by the runway, waiting for the planes to land. In his hand, he had his suitcase. The same one he had carried from home all those lifetimes ago. Since he could no longer fly, there was no place for him on the airbase. His heart was so heavy it had dropped down to his feet when he got out of bed this morning. He had known he would be forced to leave for days, but he had put the thought away. Forced it to stay out of his conscience. But today was the day. He was just going to say goodbye to his brother, and then he would be on his way. Where?

He clenched his jaw and made fists with his hands. He was the best damned pilot in the whole of RAF. And where were they sending him? To teach. To bloody teach! He was a fighter! He belonged on the battlefield.

Though, that wasn't it.

It wasn't the battlefield he belonged. He belonged with his brother.

It started raining. How fitting. He remembered it had been pouring down the day they left their parents. He had never seen them again. He prayed to the God he didn't believe in that the same wouldn't happen this time. If he never saw Rocinante again-

He didn't even want to think like that. The thought just made him feel sick.

He stood out in the rain until the planes finally arrived. Like Rocinante had seen him from way up there, he came running as soon as he was on the ground. He looked so much like a kid when he ran. It reminded Doflamingo of the days when he was the faster one, before Rocinante was able to outrun him. Why was everything in his life about his brother leaving him behind? He was the older one, it was supposed to be the other way around!

He didn't want Rocinante to see his emotions on his face, but he knew he did. He knew it from the worried angle of the other's eyebrows, and the way his lips were slightly parted, like he was about to say something comforting. But he would never say anything comforting ever again.

"I'm leaving." He said. He could literally see the words hit Rocinante. He hadn't expected the impact to be that hard. The younger even took a step backwards, almost struggling to find his footing. The rain made everything around them go quiet. Silence and Rocinante's broken eyes. They looked so sad, Doflamingo could hardly take it. "Take care of yourself." He said, his voice kind of distant and the words sounded automatic. A standard line from a brother leaving. "Don't die." He added. "Goodbye." He wanted to hug him, but Rocinante took yet another step backwards. Why did he do that? He couldn't understand him. As always, he failed to make a connection. Was this also because of the part of him that was missing? Or was this due to the fact that he was just a selfish person?

Doflamingo turned around and walked away. His steps mixed with the sound of the rain. No echo, just a melody without meaning. Well, except regret. He should've hugged him. Should've said that he loved him. But he didn't turn around.

He heard footsteps. Quick ones, splashing against the mud. And then, two strong arms wrapping around him. A painful hug which was just what he needed. His back against his brother's chest. If only this could last forever.

He wasn't scared.

Something was pushed into his hand, and the hug lasted for another minute, which felt like a second, and should've been a lifetime. Then Rocinante let go. Doflamingo didn't turn to look at him one final time.

He opened his hand, and in it, there was a note. A piece of paper, crumbled up. He flattened it as best he could to look at it. Big waterdrops hit the letters which could've been written by a five year old. The ink didn't take too kindly to the water, and it became even harder to read. He pressed it to his chest to keep it from rain. To keep it from harm. These letters meant everything to him.

"_I love you_" they said.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Nobody had wished him a happy new year. Or maybe they had, and he had ignored it. That was just as well, for Doflamingo didn't believe he'd be happy ever again. Never in his life had he wanted to turn the clock back. He just wanted it all to be a dream. A horrible nightmare from which Rocinante would pull him. Oh, if only.

Doflamingo was standing in front of a window. It looked like he was looking out at the snow, but he was actually studying the reflection of his ruined eye. It was pale and the mere sight of it disgusted him. Perhaps it would've been a good idea to cover it up with an eyepatch or something. The thought occurred to him every time someone looked at him, or he caught a glimpse of his own reflection. But he refused to yield. A part of him wanted all the untrained pilots he was supposed to teach, to see what had happened to his eye. And what awaited them all as soon as they were ready to fly. Death and injuries, and loss and hopelessness. That was what the world had in storage for them.

Time was an odd thing, he thought. The days seemed to pass before his eye. He tried to reach out to grab them, so that he might exist. But they were like eals, slippery and repelling, and no matter how much he pretended to try, he could never catch them. And so, he was forced to watch his life run away from him. And the worst part was that he was thankful for this.

As he walked through days that became weeks, which turned into months, he knew he was waiting for something. He was waiting for a letter from his brother. But nothing arrived.

Sometime in March, he got the idea that maybe he should be the first one to make contact. But he was afraid. He was afraid that he'd get the letter back, because the receiver was dead. Of course he feared that. But he needed to talk to him. He thought about visiting, but even that seemed impossible. Why? He asked himself that many times. It would have been possible, had he just wanted it enough. Or maybe there was another problem. Whatever the reason, he didn't visit Rocinante. He did, however, write him a letter.

_"Dear brother. How are you? I'm sorry I haven't been in touch before now. I guess I just got all occupied with this new job. Things are very quiet here, compared to the airbase, I mean. I do suppose that's a good thing, even if I can't deny that I miss flying. But most of all, I miss you. I hope to hear from you as soon as you get this. Fly safe. Love, Doflamingo."_

He looked at the letter for a while, studying each and every single letter of his steady handwriting. He folded the paper, and put it in an envelope. Again, he just sat there, looking at the letter he was supposed to send. Or, was he supposed to send it?

No doubt, Rocinante would love to hear from him. He should send it, he knew he should. Then why did his hand move to the candle. And why did the flames eat the message? Why did ashes fall down on the desk?

He wrote another one, longer this time.

And burnt that one too.

Another one.

More ashes.

The truth was, all the letters he wrote - he never meant to send.

_October 20th 1941._

This day was a sunny day, which was rare. It had been raining for weeks, and this weather cheered everyone up. Well, the spirit was rather low, so anything at all that could lighten the mood was welcomed. Doflamingo was going to have breakfast with the other teachers, which he thought was one of the most boring aspects of the day, but that couldn't be helped. He just saw it as one of many things that he 'had' to do. After this, he would have a few classes, then he would write a letter, burn it, and then eat dinner.

The food had gotten worse and worse lately, because the supplies were scarce. In some ways, Doflamingo had gotten used to his new life. Well, he still felt like the days just flew by, leaving him behind someplace he didn't want to be, but that was okay. He had come to terms with it all. He would never fly again, and he wouldn't see his brother until the war was over. He wasn't who he had used to be. He wasn't Doflamingo anymore. He was... Someone else.

When he came into the dining-area, he noticed a man standing by his seat. His heart jumped out of his chest, and ran out of the room, too scared to beat for him anymore. His body moved calmly towards the man. He was dressed in a uniform, which had never looked worse on anyone. A shadow hung over him, like he was indeed Death. Doflamingo could only hope that he had come for him, and not to tell him that-

Both of Doflamingo's eyes seemed dead to the outside world, like he had gone completely blind. But he could see the lips of the man in front of him moving, forming words that were telling him his brother had fallen.

"He is presumed dead, but there is still hope. If he survived the crash, he might've been taken captive." The man in the uniform said. He had introduced himself, but Doflamingo couldn't recall the name.

His mouth was dry. If his heart hadn't managed to escape in time, it probably would've raced at the speed of light. His face didn't move an inch. All he did was nod, before he sat down and began to eat.

Maybe his reactions were odd, and maybe it had everything to do with the hole inside his chest, and the fact that his heart had now left him. But to Doflamingo, everything he did was logical. Not that he was really thinking straight. No, he just acted like someone had put him on auto-pilot. But it was all clear to him that this was the only solution. If he allowed the knowledge of Rocinante's death to sink in, he would lose it. He wouldn't think about it for a second. He wouldn't cry, and he wouldn't morn. He wouldn't hope for his brother's survival. He would just forget it all.

He would forget that there ever was a summer day, which he had loved.

Forgetting the most important person in ones life is not easy. In fact, it is impossible. But it wasn't for Doflamingo. As he took the first bite of his breakfast, still no emotions on his face, the hole inside of him widened. And he became hollow, even more so than before. A demon, maybe, or just a shell? He forgot about his summer day, and the time machine he was supposed to built to bring it back. He forgot about the scars and the smiles. He forgot himself and how to fly.

_November, December, January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September,- _What was time? He did not know. But then it came; _ October._

_October 25th 1945._

Doflamingo had moved to the US. London was gone. His parents were gone, so why would he stay behind? He had had enough of it. It wasn't really that he wanted to start anew, he just wanted to not be back with the old, if that made any sense?

His apartment in New York was nothing grand, but it was good enough for him. He didn't know what he was going to do. He had no plans. He just sat in a very comfortable chair, with a bottle of Whiskey, and thought about everything that had happened. Even if he had forgotten everything, he still knew the truth.

He knew who he had loved so fiercely it was almost wrong. Of course he knew. But he wasn't himself anymore, so he just took another sip of the bottle and closed his eyes.

A hard knock on the door woke him up, even though he hadn't been sleeping. He frowned. He didn't know anybody here in New York, so he had no idea who it might be. And this wasn't a decent time of the day to be knocking at someone's door, since it was late in the evening. He honestly wished people would just go to hell sometimes.

He waited for a second, hoping that it had all been his imagination. But there was another knock, and then another, and now the person was literally banging on the door. An annoyed sigh, and he got up.

"Fucking Americans. I hate them too." He growled to himself, rubbing his blind eye. He unlocked the door and opened it with angry movements, only too look upon-

A breath escaped him, and he couldn't pull air back in. There he stood. Alive and well and just like he had forgotten him, or remembered him, you know, whatever word for it one prefers. And he was beautiful, and maybe a ghost. But Doflamingo took a step back and then forward again. He reached out his hand, terrified of not being able to touch the man in front of him. But he could. His hand rested against his chest, and the heart behind those ribs was beating.

If this wasn't real he wanted to die. If this was real, he would die of whatever feeling it was that was spreading in his chest. The chest where nothing remained, nothing but a hole.

"Rocinante." He spoke, slowly, the words coming out from behind his teeth. His brother's face didn't change. It was calm, but also worried.

Sometime in the hours he stared into his brother's eyes, his heart returned to him. It was beating so fast he thought it would stop. But the hole was still there, and now he was angry. Why? There were no answers. The only answer was that he raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. And then he punched his brother right in the face. The tall man stumbled backwards, from the impact, and hit his back against the wall in the hallway. Doflamingo followed, landing another blow. Rocinante didn't lift a finger to defend himself.

Why? Why not?

Blood painted the wall and Rocinante's face, and Doflamingo's hands, as the older brother kept at it, until he collapsed against the other. And Rocinante held him with strong arms.

"I love you too." Doflamingo whispered, like Rocinante had just handed him that note. Like they were still standing outside in the rain all those years ago. Like he was himself again, but he wasn't.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_October 26th 1945_

_ New York City_

When he opened his eyes the next day, he was so sure everything had been (and still was) a dream. There was no way the person next to him was Rocinante. But even though he had forgotten everything, he would know that breathing pattern anywhere. His brother lay next to him, wearing a shirt which Doflamingo recognized as his own. His face was bruised and there were traces of blood still left. Just like last time, he was hit by the feeling of guilt and regret. Only, it wasn't that strong this time. Not because he thought Rocinante deserved the beating. There was another reason, but he couldn't find it.

Doflamingo reached out a hand to touch the scars on his face. Both to make sure he was real, and as a sort of apology. As if a soft touch could undo it all.

He had so many questions buzzing around in his head. But they all drowned under a sea of guilt. At first, Doflamingo didn't understand why he should be feeling this guilty. Sure, he had hit Rocinante, but that wasn't enough to cause such a strong feeling. His fingers rested on the scars on his brother's face. The smile-scars, made for him and him alone. Rocinante was awake, he could tell by the way he breathed, but the mute hadn't opened opened his eyes yet. A part of him was afraid of looking into them, for what would he see? The memory of how they had looked yesterday was faint already.

He removed his hand, and realized why he felt so guilty.

It was because a part of him wasn't happy to see Rocinante. A part of him had wanted him dead.

Why? Why the hell would he want his own brother dead? Oh, but he knew the answer. If Rocinante wasn't in his life anymore, then everything would be easier. He had been doing fine on his own. And he had had a hope that the feelings would soon go away, yes, perhaps they had even begun to disappear. Doflamingo knew what these feelings, these emotions were. He even knew the word for them, but he would never say it or even think it.

Doflamingo looked at his brother, lying there with his bruised, scarred face. A soft smile rested upon his lips, and he looked so calm. Like he was finally home after a long journey. Doflamingo dragged in a sharp breath as the feelings kept pushing to get free. As they tried to move his hands again. But he wouldn't let them.

Rocinante opened his eyes to Doflamingo's breath, and their eyes met again. Doflamingo didn't know it, but, his eyes were different than before. Of course, the fire damage to his left one had changed it, but that wasn't the main difference. They were even colder than before, and something was off. Something none of them could put a finger on. Doflamingo looked away. He didn't want to poison the summer day with his disgusting emotions. Never before had he been so sure that there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was sick? Maybe he should go see a doctor? But what would he tell them? That he was-

Maybe it was time he spoke? Rocinante was the mute one, not him. They hadn't seen each other for years, and then when they were finally reunited, Doflamingo had hit him. He suddenly remembered that he had said what he had been meaning to say the day they parted.

_I love you too._

But could Rocinante understand the weight of those words? Did his younger brother even remember how they had used to be? Or had he forgotten, just like Doflamingo?

Doflamingo cleared his throat with an unpleasant, raspy sound.

"Where have you been?" Such a trivial question, and did the answer even matter? Doflamingo didn't want to think about the past. He wanted to start anew, and leave it all behind. Especially these emotions that he had forgotten, but now tried to find their way back into his body and mind.

Of course, the other didn't answer. He didn't even look around for a pencil or anything like that. His eyes just rested on Doflamingo, a tiny hint of tiredness visible in them. And then Doflamingo was trapped in a hug, as Rocinante squeezed their bodies together. Heart against hearts. Doflamingo's was racing necessarily fast, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he knew Rocinante would never understand such things, he would've been afraid the heartbeat would give it away. The unspeakable emotions.

Rocinante never answered the question, like he knew Doflamingo didn't want to hear. They just lay in the bed, tangled together in a tight embrace. Well, the youngest was the only one doing the hugging, but that didn't really matter. In the past, being close to his brother would calm Doflamingo, but not anymore. His heartbeat quickened by the second, and his body was warm and his skin probably a little sticky from sweat. A huge part of him knew he should push the other away. Of course he should! This didn't make anything better. But then there was the part of him that needed this so badly. The part that never wanted Rocinante to let go.

It was raining outside.

_Why is it always raining?_

Doflamingo wondered about that. He couldn't remember a single sunny day, not since that man in the uniform had told him Rocinante was dead. That was the day he had forgotten everything. He had thought that was for the best, but now that Rocinante and the feelings were back, he felt more crushed than ever before. Was he even going to be able to handle this?

Rocinante's hand pushed up into his hair. He had cut it not long ago, and he didn't believe Roci would comment on it. He was a man of no words after all. Speaking of change, the body next to him seemed different. Sharper angles and harder bones. He had lost weight, no doubt, but he didn't seem weak. Doflamingo wondered which one of them was the physically strongest. Why would he wonder about that? He wasn't a kid anymore, and had lost a lot of his competitive nature.

"You've lost weight." Doflamingo said, and found it easier to speak this time. After he had forgotten everything, he hadn't really been around people anymore. He hadn't talked to people unless he had to, and never seeked out company. But now, he remembered that he once found Rocinante to be the easiest person in the world to talk to. Perhaps building the timemachine wasn't impossible after all.

"My eye isn't any better, but at least it doesn't look so fucked up anymore." At least this time he got a reaction from the other, cause Rocinante pulled away to look at his face. Indeed, his left eye was just pale, like fog had come to cover half a winter day.

Rocinante's index finger was cold as it trailed over the faded burnt marks on his face. They were hardly visible anymore, and not sensitive to touch at all, and yet he had to stop himself from moving away. Though, Rocinante's other hand pushed against the back of his head, preventing him from escaping.

"What do you think? Not so bad, huh?" Well, maybe Rocinante thought it was ugly still. And maybe he even blamed himself for it. Doflamingo still did, but he had scarred Rocinante's face too, so maybe this was just the way it was meant to turn out.

His breathing pattern changed, and he began to breathe through his mouth when Rocinante moved his face closer. Someone's breath tickled his lips. A tiny sound of surprise escaped him when his brother kissed his ruined eye. His mouth, just like the rest of his body, was cold. In that moment, he could've sworn he could hear Rocinante's thoughts;

_You're still beautiful._

But that was just for a moment. When he pulled away, he wasn't so sure anymore. His heart was skyrocketing, and he had to tell himself to calm down. It was just a small token of affection from someone who hadn't seen him in years. He had to get rid of these feelings, no matter what it took. Even if he had to-

He pushed Rocinante away with a rather forceful movement. The mute sat up with a confused look on his face, and then, just because he was very clumsy, he fell backwards and landed on the floor. When the body of the other wasn't next to him anymore, he regretted his actions, but only for a second. When the other couldn't see, he wiped the sweat of his forehead, and took a few deep breaths. He had never dreamed about his brothers return, but even if he had, he never would've thought he would have such a strong reaction to seeing him again. This was just getting completely out of control, and it could only end badly. For him, for them both, because this wasn't right.

Rocinante stood up from the floor. He was still wearing his own pants, and there were some traces of blood on them. He looked at Doflamingo, and seemed to be deep in thought. Doflamingo had a nervous feeling of being interrogated, and the other wasn't even saying anything. He really had to calm down.

"Maybe you're hungry? You can go check the kitchen if you want to." The younger brother stood there for another minute, before he nodded and did as bid.

He got out of bed as soon at the other was out of sight, and looked down on his body. He felt disgusted with himself, and the expression on his face clearly showed that.

"I'm going to take a shower, help yourself to whatever you feel like."

It was ages since he had taken a shower this cold, but it was refreshing. He shivered slightly, and rubbed his face. He was so fucking lucky that Rocinante hadn't noticed anything. But that dense man probably never would. He didn't understand these things. Hell, Doflamingo didn't understand them himself. Why was he feeling like this around his- He banged his head against the wall to stop the trail of thoughts. He didn't want this. He couldn't have his brother around if it was going to be like this. He would have to ask him to leave.

But they had just reunited! They had been apart for so long. And, most important of all; they belonged together.

Doflamingo just stayed in the shower for minutes after he had turned off the water. The air was cold and it made him shiver even more, and goosebumps covered him all over, but he didn't move. It was very sad that it had come to this, but he really didn't have a choice, as far as he could see. If only Rocinante had been dead.

No. He was glad he was alive.

Or was he?

Was he?

_Am I?_

_I don't know anymore!_

He smashed his fist against the wall, and forced the cry of pain to remain in his throat. Only a strangled growl escaped him.

When he came out of the bathroom, drying his hair off with a towel, Rocinante was sitting on the bed, eating a bun. It was three days old, and couldn't possibly be tasty. But the mute seemed happy about it. He tilted his head to the side, and looked at his older brother. Doflamingo had put on pants, but no shirt, since those were kept in another closet. God, his brother looked so innocent when he just sat there like that, eating with that happy look on his face. Maybe he should let him stay a little longer? But wouldn't that only make it worse? Indeed, the best was to just tell him to leave as soon as possible, before he could remember anything else. Rocinante was supposed to be dead, and if he wasn't going to live the rest of his life as a sick, twisted person, he would have to remain dead.

"Roci, listen..." He didn't know how to continue. He cursed himself for using his nickname, it just made them seem that much closer.

_You can't stay here._

_I can't be around you._

_You make me-_

"That bun is three days old, isn't it distasteful? I have some cookies if you want something sweet." In the end, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't. He turned away from his brother, and swallowed hard. After that, he went into the kitchen and got him a cookie. He had gotten them from the lady who lived next doors as a welcoming-new-neighbours-thing, but he hadn't touched them. He wasn't too fond of sweets.

When he returned, Rocinante had finished the bun, and was wearing an eager smile. He reached out his hand for a cookie, which was handed to him.

"You're still such a kid. When are you going to grow up?" Doflamingo chuckled. Jesus, how long was it since he had smiled? A million years maybe? He sat next down to the other, and put a hand on his head. Damn, his hair was soft. Much softer than his own, and rather long now too. It was still a mess, just like it had always been. Okay, now he was getting way too nostalgic.

"Do you like them? I have a whole jar." The mute nodded with the cookie between his teeth. Doflamingo shivered again. "You took my favorite shirt." It was a joke, but Rocinante didn't catch that, and began to unbutton it. "No, you can keep it. I was just kidding." But he continued with the buttons, and pulled the shirt off. "Seriously, just keep it-" He suddenly went silent when he saw his brother's skin.

It was covered in different scars. Sure, he had had some scars to begin with from when he was a kid, but not like this. Rocinante was smiling, but Doflamingo didn't see that. He was too busy looking at his chest, and then his back. "Fucking Christ, Roci... What the hell happened to you?" It looked like someone had had a lot of fun cutting him up. Now Rocinante's expression changed to worry. "Who did this to you?" He wasn't really expecting an answer. The younger tipped his head forward, looking down on the floor, like he was embarrassed for some reason, or maybe worried.

No wonder Rocinante didn't have a problem with how his left eye looked. This was just so much worse.

But Doflamingo didn't care about these scars. They didn't repel him, and in some way, he wished that they did. But to him, his brother wasn't any different than before. "So this is what happens when I'm not there to look after you?" Rocinante looked up again, a small hope lighting up behind his eyes. What had he been worried about in the first place? "You're such a silly little brother." Now the younger was smiling, and he dropped his head on Doflamingo's shoulder, letting out a small breath of... Relief? Maybe. Doflamingo wasn't sure.

They sat there for a while. Doflamingo was listening to Rocinante's breathing, and the younger one was listening to... Well, who knew. Maybe the sound of the fading rain, which was currently battling the sun. In the end, the sunlight won, and it shone inside the small apartment.

Rocinante stood up, and gestured towards the door.

"You want to go out?" Doflamingo asked. He had to get back into routine with his brother not speaking. It wasn't always easy to know what the mute wanted. But this time, it seemed Doflamingo was right in his guess, since the younger one nodded eagerly. "Why do you want to go out?" Why would anyone want that? The city was full of people who he didn't care about, and never would. People who would pass him, remaining forever strangers. They had no part in his life. Rocinante pointed at the door again, and Doflamingo yielded. "Fine. If you really want to. God, you're such a child." Rocinante shook his head, clearly arguing on the child-thing. Doflamingo just rolled his eyes, and they both got dressed for the outdoors.

They made such an odd pair when they walked down the street, which was getting more and more crowded now that the rain had stopped. People going to work, or maybe home. People going shopping or to see a friend. They were all sort of blurry to Doflamingo, and the only thing he focused on was his brother.

It was clear to everyone who looked upon them that they were brothers. Their years apart had only made them look more similar. Doflamingo was used to people staring at him because of his bad eye, which he still refused to cover up with an eyepatch. But now that he was walking next to Roci, people were looking more at his younger brother than him. Well, maybe because his face had more scars. He couldn't tell if they were looking at his smile-scars or the thick one across his neck. As people walked past them, they had a lot of different faces. Some looked like they pitied Rocinante, some looked disgusted by him. Some couldn't turn their gaze away, and some even looked proud. It was obvious that they all saw him as a war veteran. Doflamingo had never thought he would miss the staring, but right now, he did. Because when people looked at Rocinante instead of him, it was like his efforts during the war was nothing. Like Rocinante had done more than him. Which was the truth, though he wouldn't admit that.

They passed a group of children, who should've been at school in Doflamingo's opinion. They stared more than anyone so far.

"Were you in the war, sir?" One of them asked, the question directed at Rocinante. An annoyed frown flew across Doflamingo's face, and he just wanted to continue walking, but the other had stopped. Roci nodded, pointed at himself, and then put his hands together, making a butterfly. The kids didn't seem to care that their new hero couldn't talk, they just looked at him with big eyes. "You were a pilot, sir?" Rocinante nodded, and smiled proudly, before he let the butterfly crash on an imaginary ground, and then he pointed at himself. "Did you crash, sir?" The children were now completely drawn into the story, which wasn't even a story. Doflamingo felt himself going more and more irritated. Rocinante nodded yet again, and held two fingers up. "Twice?! Did you crash twice, sir?"

"Don't you children have anything better to do than annoy us? Run along to school or something." The authority which had always lived in Doflamingo's voice was still there, perhaps even more present than ever. The kids looked at Rocinante for another second, before they ran away.

"I fucking hate children." Doflamingo muttered, mostly to himself, and then he looked at Rocinante, who looked pretty disappointed for some reason. Doflamingo understood why, and he figured that he might actually be a horrible, selfish person. Why wouldn't he allow Roci to have a moment of pride?

Because he was jealous, of course.

"Come on. I can buy you something sweet from the shop over here, if you want to." Speaking of children, he figured he treated his brother like a child too. The mute smiled, and nodded, but there was still a hint of disappointment hanging over his features. He didn't like to see him like this, but he couldn't help that he was such a selfish person. He had always been this way.

It started raining a little bit when they walked back from the store. Rocinante didn't seem to notice, too busy with his small bag of fruit caramells. They had been pretty expensive, but they had been the first thing Roci had pointed at in the store, so of course, Doflamingo had bought them for him. In the past, Doflamingo remembered that he had thought walking in silence with his brother was calming and nice, but it wasn't right now. He was still feeling bad about the dealings with the kids, but that wasn't the main issue. Silence meant he got the time to think, and he really shouldn't be doing that. Thinking was dangerous, because then he could remember. The truth was, he had remembered ever since yesterday. He had remembered just how his brother made him feel.

"How do you like New York?" He asked, just to have a conversation, even if that was impossible. He just didn't want to think. Rocinante shrugged his shoulders. "Me neither. It's so noisy. Do you remember when we were kids, and we went to visit our grandmother's house?" He didn't wait for a reply, since there would be none. "She had that pretty garden, where she grew apples and pears. I remember you were really good at climbing, so you always got us the apples from the top of the tree. They were the best, at least our granny said so." He looked over at Rocinante, who was now blushing. Right, he had just complimented him, which meant he would blush. He wondered if his brother would ever change. Or would he ever change? Would they change together and fall onto different paths? Or maybe that had already happened, and perhaps that was for the best.

"Do you remember, Roci?" He asked, quietly now. The younger nodded. It was pretty much impossible to keep a conversation, and the thoughts kept closing in on him. "Do you miss talking?" The question came out of nowhere, and it was such a surprise to them both that they stopped. Doflamingo rested his gaze on the younger. Rocinante was calm, and his gentle smile was in place. He slowly shook his head. "You don't miss it?" He shook his head again.

Doflamingo missed it. He missed it so much right now. He hadn't felt the need to hear his brother's voice in years, but now the need was there, and it was strong. A voice could give so much away. What a person felt and thought and wanted. Rocinante was so hard to read, and it made everything so difficult for him.

"I really want to talk to you." He admitted. The mute moved his hand like he was writing in the air. "Yes. When we get back to the apartment, I'll get you something to write on. Though you're so slow at it."

They got back to the flat, and as soon as jackets were off and Rocinante had sat down in the small sofa, he got him a notebook and a pencil. He sat next to him, but then he went quiet. There were many things he wanted to ask him, but he didn't know where to start.

"Where have you been these past years?" It didn't really matter, but he had to begin somewhere. The mute raised his hand and did a 'Sieg Heil'. "In Germany?" The other nodded. Well, so much for the notebook.

"Why... Why didn't you send me any letters. Before you were taken captive I mean." His voice was low, just because he felt a little uncomfortable asking about that. He had been looking for the answer forever, and now he was about to get it. Rocinante wrote on the paper, and it took almost two minutes before he was done. Doflamingo waited, and watched as he wrote. His handwriting hadn't changed at all.

"_Because you didn't send me any_."

Just like he had thought. He really should've sent all those letters, instead of burning them. But he had been afraid. He was still afraid. But who wouldn't be? After all, everything about this was so wrong, and it was all his fault for being such a sick person. A sick person with a hole in his chest and a winter in his eyes.

"I wrote many, but I didn't send them." He mumbled, and wished he hadn't said that.

"_Why?_" Rocinante wrote.

Yes. That was the question, and he had the answer, but right now he couldn't speak.

"I don't know." He lied. He was a good liar, always had been. But this wasn't just anyone he was trying to deceive. This was his brother. The person who knew him better than anyone, despite being separated for years. He saw right through him.

"_Liar._" The word on the paper was harsh, but never had anything described Doflamingo better. Indeed, he was a liar. He lied to himself constantly, which was one of the only reasons why he was still somewhat sane. But, it seemed his brother had come to take even that way from him, and push him off the edge and into madness.

"I think I'm sick, Roci." His voice was still quiet, almost dying down so that the nickname was just a quiet breath.

Would his brother understand? A part of him wanted him to. He wanted him to understand, and then find it so repelling that he left. He wanted Rocinante to leave and never return. He never wanted to see that beautiful, gentle smile ever again. He begged for him to understand.

_Please, understand._

_And then leave me._

But the look on the other's face was utter confusion. And soon, Rocinante's hand was on his forehead, checking for a fever. Of course, his silly, innocent little brother wouldn't understand something like this. He didn't even know if he did so himself, but it had been too much to hope for. Now there was only one thing left. He would have to ask Rocinante to leave, or he would go insane. There was no question about it. Well, there was one question; How? How the hell was he supposed to push his brother out of his life again? Now that he had finally returned...

The cool hand stayed on his forehead for hours and hours and then years. He loved the touch so much, and he never wanted it to end. But it did. He had closed his eyes, and didn't open them before Rocinante poked his shoulder, holding up a note.

"_You have a fever._" Doflamingo frowned. That wasn't what he had meant by sick. He felt his own forehead. When he thought about it, it did seem a bit hot. So, he was actually coming down with something? Or had all of this just been too much for him?

Perhaps this fever would kill him.

He hoped it would.

It was either death, or he would have to ask his brother to leave him alone. He doubted he would be able to do that.

"Why did you come back, Roci?" He knew that was a very hurtful question to ask, but he needed to know. Rocinante took his hand in his. Cold fingers against sweaty ones, as the mute brought the hand up to his lips, and kissed it. Doflamingo held his breath as soft, slightly cold lips pressed against his skin. "Because you love me." He answered his own question. The younger didn't answer, he just kept holding his hand in his.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Doflamingo pretended to be sick for two weeks. At some point, the pretend had gotten so strong, he almost believed it himself. Needless to say, Rocinante thought he was sick. It wasn't a total lie either, because already on the third day, Doflamingo started having dreams. Though, he would like to call them nightmares - but they weren't.

There was nothing he could do to stop his brain from playing the different, disgusting scenarios for him over and over again. Sentences like '_dreams are hidden desires' _didn't exactly help either. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted it all to stop.

By the end of the second week, he was so disturbed by the dreams that he didn't dare to fall asleep. He just lay awake at night, looking up at the ceiling. There were two spots on it, about three inches apart. At least then he had something to look at. He drew a line in his head between the two dots over and over again, and watched as it disappeared.

He had to ask his brother to leave, that much was certain. He had tried many times already, but every time he was about to say the words, he backed out. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, and that made him furious. Mostly with himself, but his anger was also directed at Rocinante. Why did his brother have to be such a kindhearted, silent person? Why did he have to sit by his bedside every day? Why did he always have to make sure he was okay before he went to sleep on the couch? And why did he have to push his fingers through his hair just like he was doing now? And why - why the fuck were his fingers always so cold?!

An annoyed sigh escaped him, and Rocinante pulled his hand away. Doflamingo didn't want him to do that, but made no protest. It soon returned though, to be placed on his forehead as Rocinante checked for a fever. Doflamingo knew he didn't have one, and he had a feeling that the other knew that too.

But Doflamingo was sick. Sick in the mind. So fucking sick.

The hand felt almost icy against his forehead.

"Your hand is cold." Doflamingo mumbled. Rocinante's face had that peaceful smile, and the younger man nodded. "It's always cold." He added, even if they both knew that and there was no reason to say it. He just wanted to talk, but really, that wasn't the real reason. The truth was that he wanted Rocinante to sit by his bed just a little longer. He didn't want him to leave.

What a tough spot Doflamingo was stuck in. He knew that he had to tell his brother to leave. And not just leave his bedside, but leave his life all together. If he didn't... Well, then this sickness that had befallen him would just grow in strength, until-

Until what? Until he couldn't take it anymore? And what would happen then? Oh, but Doflamingo knew exactly what would happen. His brain had already showed him in his nightmares.

He looked at Rocinante. He looked at his bright, blue eyes, and thought;

_I wish you were dead._

That was a horrible thought, he knew that. It made him a terrible person, but that was okay. Doflamingo had figured it out a while ago - he wasn't a good person. Perhaps he never had been. No, probably not. He hadn't even been a decent man. He was a bad, bad, bad, bad brother.

Rocinante's eyes fell to the ground, and for a second Doflamingo feared (or maybe hoped) that he had read his thoughts. But even if Rocinante was good at understanding him, he was no mind reader. And this whole problem wasn't one that the poor, innocent mute would be able to comprehend anyway.

Doflamingo wondered what Rocinante had said if he had been able to talk. Would he have reassured him that everything was going to be okay? Or would he have asked why he was pretending to be sick? Most likely, nothing would've been different. Rocinante probably hadn't spoken to him anyway. But Doflamingo couldn't remember how their relationship had been before the war. He couldn't even remember the room he had slept in, or the dinner table. He couldn't remember the smell of his mother's perfume, and he certainly couldn't recall the sound of his father's voice. Whose fault was that? Time was to blame, he figured. It was over two hundred years since he had walked out the door together with Rocinante. It was a hundred years since he had lost his left eye. He was old and tired, and all he really wanted was to be left alone.

The devil lived in him, he was certain of that. Surely, only the devil itself could call forth the dreams he was having? What was the cure for the devil? Prayers? Doflamingo didn't believe in God, so he wouldn't turn to him for help. He knew there was no God, because Hell was on earth, and he was already there.

Maybe he deserved it for being such a selfish man.

Rocinante got up from the bed, and his smile was forgiving. Like he had heard what Doflamingo was thinking, and that he forgave him for it. Doflamingo felt lonely as soon as his brother wasn't in sight anymore. He felt so lonely he could hardly stand it, which only confirmed his diagnosis. He really was going insane.

The faint scent of cigarette smoke reached him, and he knew Rocinante was smoking on the sofa, but he didn't mind. It reminded him of decades ago, when they were both pilots, and they were both free. Doflamingo knew he would never be free again, because this anchor that had attached itself to him was going to bring him down. Down. Down. Hand in hand with the devil, as he joined the drowning dance.

The whole next day, Doflamingo pretended to be asleep. He lay with his head turned towards the wall, with his eyes closed. Rocinante sat by the bedside for what Doflamingo was sure had to be hours. The light in the room changed as it went from dawn to dusk. It was raining again, heavily, judging from the sound. The sound of the rain wasn't calming to him. It just made his heart that much heavier in his chest.

It was strange how long he was able to lie there without doing anything. He was just thinking. Thinking and thinking about how he was going to say it. In the end, he thought he was ready. He knew Rocinante was still there, and he turned around to face his brother. From the look on his face, he'd say that Rocinante had been fully aware that he wasn't asleep.

As he looked at the younger man, with his scars and his smile and his silly, fluffy hair, he faltered for a second. Doflamingo was nobody for a moment, and that felt good. But then he swallowed, and spoke.

"I want you to leave me alone. I want you to go and never come back." The words sounded odd, and felt strange as they left his lips. He could see them hit Rocinante like bullets or something even more painful. The mute looked confused, and then sadness filled his entire being. Never had he seen Rocinante look like that. He seemed to almost sink through the floor, and becoming much shorter than he really was. His right hand moved up to cover his mouth, even if no sound would ever escape him. Doflamingo knew that he just didn't want him to see his face. But he couldn't hide his eyes. Doflamingo wished that he had.

The summer day was filled with rain, which soon became too much for it to hold back, and the summer day let some of it pour down Rocinante's pale cheeks. Sorrow. The word didn't even have a meaning compared to what Doflamingo was seeing in his brother's eyes.

"I'm sorry." He heard himself say as he sat up. Of course he was sorry. But 'sorry' was just a word too, and it was meaningless. He could never take back what he had just said. There was no going back. And even a thousand excuses wouldn't be able to stop the rain from pouring down on his summer day. Doflamingo felt his own eyes start to sting. "Roci, please leave now." He said. He just couldn't take it anymore. He had to get his brother out of there as soon as possible.

Rocinante shook his head and pointed at his heart, and then at Doflamingo. Yes, that was true. Rocinante loved him, and so he wouldn't want to leave. Doflamingo closed his eyes shut and begged for his brother to just get the hell out. But the other didn't move.

"Didn't you hear me? I said get out!" Doflamingo got up from the bed now. Not really angry, though that was how it came across. His voice was raspy and hard from not being used all day. It was frightening, even to himself.

Rocinante shook his head again.

"Get out!" Doflamingo pushed the other, hard. But Rocinante didn't even take one step back. And then he suddenly felt strong arms wrap themselves around him in a tight embrace. "Roci, no. Let go of me." Doflamingo had shouted the words in his head, but when they left his mouth, they were barely a whisper. He wanted to cry but his eyes were too cold and the tears became ice. The hug tightened. He felt hands grasping his shoulder blades and sharp fingers dig into his skin. And he never wanted it to stop.

"Get away from me." Doflamingo said, stronger this time. But Rocinante had no intentions of letting go. And Doflamingo didn't want him to, and that pushed him over a line he didn't even know he had. He was holding his breath as he saw the world turn red or maybe black. Anger that came shooting in every direction poured out of him.

"I said: Get the fuck _away _from me!" Doflamingo pushed the other away so hard that Rocinante crashed the back of his head against the wall. Doflamingo followed, and grabbed his brother's throat with both his hands. He tightened the grip and Rocinante let out a strangled cough. He could see his brother's lips tremble now that he was missing oxygen, but he didn't let go. In fact, he just pressed harder around the neck, like he wanted to break it. Rocinante's cold hands came up to try and fight his off, but Roci was already weak from lack of air. His bony fingers just scraped against Doflamingo's skin, desperate, yet yielding in a strange way. Like he really was giving up. This was the only way. This was the only way Doflamingo was ever going to get rid of his feelings. If Rocinante was dead, he would be free again. He could fly away.

That was what he told himself as he watched the rain in Rocinante's eyes calm down. He watched as his lips turned blue, and stopped shaking. He saw his skin go pale, and in the end, there was nothing.

Not even a breath when he removed his hands.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

** Author puts a note to remind readers of **_**trigger warnings**___**in this chapter **

A hollow sound was heard as two bodies dropped to the ground. One limp, the other clinging desperately to it. Pale skin and blue lips. Angry, red marks forming on a scarred neck. And a single drop of rain left the dead summer day, trailing down the owner's cheek. A silent awakening that reminded Doflamingo of what he had done.

He couldn't breathe. As much as he wanted and needed air, he couldn't pull it down his lungs. His hands grasped Rocinante's shoulders, holding onto them like someone's life depended on it. His life. His brother's life. A heartbreaking sound escaped Doflamingo when he realized.

Rocinante was gone.

Summer was gone.

There was nothing but the winter and the cold and the rain left.

"Roci." He said behind his teeth, even if he knew there was no point. Wasn't he supposed to feel free when his brother was gone? If this was freedom, he didn't want it. If this was flying, he wanted to be grounded for life. His heart was about to break through his chest and let him die, which he knew he deserved. But this couldn't be it. They had gone through so much together, and Doflamingo wouldn't let this happen.

"Brother, please." Who was he talking to? Himself, maybe, on behalf of Rocinante. He covered his mouth and tears formed in his eyes. They soon poured down his face, and his shoulders started shaking as he cried.

"Please, please, please. I can't do this. I can't-" Doflamingo couldn't say more, it hurt too much. His whole body was trembling, and yet - he refused to give up.

He placed his shaking mouth above Rocinante's blue, scarred lips, and then he leaned down, breathing as much air as he could into him. He did it twice, and then he pushed his weight down on the younger's chest. He repeated it over and over again. He had seen it been done before, but he wasn't sure whether or not he was doing it right.

And Doflamingo didn't believe in miracles. And he didn't believe in God. He didn't believe in justice, or a second chance. He didn't believe in anything, but that didn't matter. Because suddenly, Rocinante drew a sharp breath.

The mute's chest rose a couple of times, and Doflamingo needed those seconds to understand what had happened. And when Rocinante opened his eyes, Doflamingo was too afraid to meet them. But he did it anyway. Of course he was afraid, he had just tried to kill his brother after all. What was he supposed to say to him? What was he supposed to do? But even if he was afraid, it was nothing to the huge amount of relief that flushed through his body.

Rocinante looked confused, and then he looked pained. He pushed himself up on his elbows, and let out a silent cough. Of course, his throat probably hurt a lot, at least it looked that way from the bruises that had formed on his neck.

"Roci, I'm so sorry." Doflamingo said, quietly. He knew the apology meant nothing. Maybe they both knew that, but Rocinante still looked confused. They stared at each other, and there was something hollow about the summer day. Like it hadn't really returned. Something changed in Rocinante's eyes, but Doflamingo couldn't tell what it was. Not until it was too late.

Never had he seen such anger in the pretty, blue eyes.

Surprisingly quick, Rocinante grabbed the collar of his shirt. He hadn't expected the other to be strong enough to pull him down, but he was. Doflamingo didn't even get the chance to make an attempt at escaping, before Rocinante pinned him down on the floor with his weight, hovering over his older brother.

Doflamingo didn't know what to expect. He didn't know if he should be afraid or not. The only thing he knew was that he had never seen his eyes look like that. He was about to open his mouth to speak, but Rocinante pushed a sharp elbow down on his chest, and he couldn't say a word. The younger grabbed his jaw, and pushed his sharp fingertips against the skin, forcing Doflamingo's mouth to open slightly.

Their eyes were still connected, and Doflamingo knew what the other's eyes reminded him of. They reminded him of himself.

And he was the devil, so maybe Roci was too?

The younger leaned down, their eyes not moving away from each other for a single second. None of them even blinked. As a cold, scarred mouth met Doflamingo's warm, shaking one, there was total silence. Except for the raging heartbeat in the older one's chest, and someone's heavy breath which was now stopped in a forceful kiss.

Doflamingo was too surprised to react. He didn't even realize that he held his breath. He felt the other's tongue begin to lick alongside his bottom lip, only just far enough inside to slide against Doflamingo's own saliva. It was slow, almost like Rocinante was asking for permission, but he wasn't. The elbow was removed from his chest, and Doflamingo took a deep breath, just before Rocinante pushed his tongue into his mouth.

Of course, Doflamingo had tongue kissed many times before, but never had it made his heart beat this fast. The kiss wasn't gentle in any sort of way. It was rough and Rocinante was one hundred percent in control of it.

In Doflamingo's dreams, or nightmares as he liked to refer to them as, everything always went very slowly. Soft and slow and compassionate. But this was something entirely different. Rocinante's eyes were on fire, and sharp teeth pierced Doflamingo's lip. The taste of copper spilt into his mouth, and for a very short second he thought about the time when Rocinante had lost his voice in the plane crash. He remembered the taste. Maybe their blood tasted exactly the same, just because they were brothers? It seemed Rocinante wanted the crimson, hot liquid in his own mouth, because he started to suck on the swollen lip, drawing blood from Doflamingo like he wanted to drain him. The older shuddered, and noticed he was arching his body up towards the other. Rocinante pulled away for a moment, lips parted and fire in his eyes. And Doflamingo realized that it wasn't anger - it was lust.

Rocinante sat up on top of him. Both their chests moved quickly up and down, as they tried to catch their breaths. This almost got Doflamingo time to stop and think. Think. But then Rocinante moved his hands, and gripped Doflamingo's shirt. With a forceful jerk, he ripped the shirt open. Buttons flew and landed in distant places that didn't even exist. Doflamingo hardly had any scars on his toned chest, but the younger didn't stop for a second to look at the view. It was like he didn't care how his brother looked, and in some ways, Doflamingo felt just the same.

The mute leaned down, and slid his tongue and mouth alongside the pulsing vein on Doflamingo's neck. He then took it into his mouth, and Doflamingo could feel his own heartbeat in between the other's teeth. Hickeys that would stay for days formed as Rocinante worked on the older's neck. Teeth and mouth and tongue. Sucking and biting. Probably, these marks would fade long after Rocinante's own bruises had.

Even if he wasn't really doing anything, there was no time for Doflamingo to think. As soon as a thought appeared in his head, it was gone in the next second. There was nothing. There was no future and no past. There was only the present, and Rocinante's mouth.

He wouldn't have minded if Rocinante had continued his attacks on his neck until he started bleeding, but the younger brother had other plans. Eager, rough hands moved down Doflamingo's chest. It felt like the fingers did their best to dig into his skin, and Doflamingo was sure he could see red marks from nails in the faint light. But the pain, if there was any, was good. He was so turned on he could hardly tell up from down. Heartbeat from heartbeat. Breath from breath.

His fogged mind tried to process what was going to happen next. But it was all a blur to him. Memories of old one night's stands, and even those he had been more serious about were so distant. He couldn't even remember names or faces.

He knew he was damned, and demanded a thousand times more. Of course, he didn't believe in God, but he didn't need God to tell him that doing this with his own fucking brother was as wrong as it could get. As soon as it was clear to him that this was actually happening, and not a dream, he tried to push Rocinante away on reflex.

"Stop." He said, more to snap himself out of it than anything else. Of course, he had anticipated that the other would listen to him, just like he always did. But not this time. Instead, he began to tug at his pajama pants, and if he wasn't stopped, he would soon pull them off. Doflamingo did another attempt, this time he grabbed his arm. "I said stop. Wait. Roci, this is wrong." He had to get the other to understand just how messed up, no, fucked up this was. His gut twisted just by the thought of it. But more importantly, what made him feel sick was how much he wanted it. How hard his dick was and that he had been having nightmares about this for weeks.

Maybe longer than that too, but he didn't want to remember.

Apparently, Rocinante didn't care that it was wrong. It didn't look like he cared about anything his brother had to say. Even if Doflamingo's efforts to stop him were only half hearted, it was still kind of a big deal for the other to just continue on. And soon, Doflamingo's pants were off. The other crawled off him, to throw them into a dark corner of the room. The walls seemed to close in on them, and it was almost making Doflamingo claustrophobic. At least it was very hard to breathe right now, but that was mostly the guilt trying to suffocate him. It squeezed his neck and was going to make him bleed.

But that was okay, because Doflamingo wanted to bleed.

He heard the sound of a belt being opened. The sound of metal distant, and Rocinante's movements looked extremely slow. Even if he would never admit it, Doflamingo knew it was because he wanted the other to hurry up.

What was he expecting? He had no idea. He just wanted their bodies against each other. The room was cold, but Doflamingo's skin was slick with sweat. It poured down his forehead and down his chin. It stuck to his chest and made it only that much harder to breathe. Rocinante's own body was glistening in the yellow light, even if most his body was still covered by clothes. Doflamingo remembered his brother's scars, and wanted to see them. But the younger pushed his hands away. Why was Roci the only one allowed to do anything? Doflamingo wanted to touch him too. He wanted to drag his fingers down his chest and taste his skin. But the other wouldn't allow that. In fact, Rocinante seemed almost annoyed by Doflamingo. He had opened his own pants now, but what was the point of that if they weren't undressed? Wasn't the point to have skin against skin?

Doflamingo had never been with another man. He hadn't even thought or imagined it.

Rocinante hadn't either, as far as Doflamingo knew anyway. But his brother had always had a much better imagination than himself.

"We have to stop." Doflamingo said, admitting that Rocinante wasn't the only one driving this. He felt something with twice his own body temperature (basically burning) pressing against his ass, and he almost felt faint when he realized it was Rocinante's erection. "Brother, stop." His voice wasn't even there. So far away and he didn't mean it, even if he had used the word 'brother' to remind Rocinante of how terribly fucking wrong this was.

His words fell on deaf ears. Maybe he was about to mutter some final form of protest, but didn't get the chance, because the younger slowly started to push against him. The words came out a muffled cry as Doflamingo bit down on his own hand. It was painful, and still, Rocinante was being rather slow. Doflamingo's obvious discomfort didn't put him off at all, and he kept pushing inside.

The world started spinning in front of his eyes, even as he closed them shut. The pain in his hand caused by his own teeth wasn't enough, and he bit harder, until he almost thought he had pierced the skin. After what felt like a million years, Rocinante stopped. Doflamingo had been holding his breath the whole time, but now he could breathe again. He swallowed the air like he needed to drink it. His jaw felt numb from the biting. Rocinante stayed completely still, just like the time. Doflamingo didn't believe he'd ever heard a heavier breath against his air as Rocinante carefully leaned down. And then there was a kiss, which Doflamingo arched up into. His mouth begging for more of the other's sweet taste.

He could feel the other throbbing inside of him, and he could almost taste Rocinante's impatience on his tongue which slid against his own. Doflamingo's heart was pounding madly in fear of pain and from the sickening pleasure.

Rocinante moved his hands to Doflamingo's hips, taking a solid grip of them. Cold fingertips against wet skin. Doflamingo was pretty sure his body temperature at the moment was one hundred degrees. And then Rocinante thrust himself all the way inside, and he wasn't sure about anything anymore. It was too sudden, and Doflamingo swore in pain, very loudly. Any thoughts of thin walls and scared neighbours weren't present at all in his head. As Rocinante stopped moving again, Doflamingo's breath had become small whimpers and huffs. Fucking Christ it hurt so much.

"Roci, please... Please be gentle with me." Doflamingo didn't even know what he was saying. He just knew that he needed a break from the pain. If it hadn't been for the fact that he wasn't certain about anything anymore, he would've said that his body was about to split in two.

But Rocinante showed no mercy, and Doflamingo thought that perhaps, he deserved none either. The younger's fingertips dug into the sharp angles of his hips, as the grip tightened, and he pulled out, only to forcefully push himself back inside.

He repeated the motion over and over, seemingly driving deeper and deeper into the older man. Doflamingo gave up on forming actual words, and gave into cries of pain. He tried to suppress them as best he could, and that transformed them into rough moans.

He had no idea on how long this went on for, seeing as everything was a mess, but after a while (it had to be a while, right?), he thought the pain had decreased a little. Or maybe he had just been paralyzed from the waist down? That would be good too. His throat was dry and sore, but that didn't keep him from moaning, and this time it was a different kind of moan. This time it was from pleasure. It was low, but it was there, and Rocinante heard it. Doflamingo's tired, lidded eyes met the ones of his brother again, and he wondered what was going on inside that insane head. He wondered for about a second, when Rocinante thrust deep into him, deeper than before. He let out an uncontrolled lustful moan, and he felt his body arch up against Roci's.

"A-again." He whispered. The younger obliged, and was awarded with yet another moan. Rocinante was completely silent, of course. And that only made Doflamingo's sounds that much louder. There was something odd about hearing his own voice have that pleading twist. "Again." He repeated, louder this time, and again, Rocinante did as he was bid. Doflamingo bucked his hips, eager to meet the hard thrusts. He was slick inside now, and Roci could move more easily, and he was also getting used to the feeling of being filled up.

After a minute, Doflamingo never wanted it to end. He wanted the other to go faster and deeper and harder, and he voiced his needs to Rocinante, who did just as he asked. Or begged, which it sounded more like, when Doflamingo whimpered '_harder_', and then, shortly after '_faster_', and then a loud moan.

But then Rocinante slowed down. "No, no, fuck.. Why are you... Slowing down..." Doflamingo panted, looking up at the younger brother. And then he understood. He understood from Rocinante's heavy breath and parted lips. He saw it in his still burning eyes and heavy lids. Doflamingo had been too caught up in his own pleasure to even think about how his behavior affected Roci. Of course the other was close.

"Just, hold on a little longer..." Rocinante picked up the pace again, driving deeper than before. "If you keep this up... It won't take long..." Doflamingo pushed his hips upwards to get the other deeper, but Rocinante couldn't keep it up anymore. With a loud breath, he pushed deep inside, and leaned down, catching Doflamingo's mouth with his. "No. I need more." Doflamingo moaned into the kiss. Rocinante trembled inside of him, and when the younger pulled away, Doflamingo could read his own name on Roci's lips.

One of Rocinante's hands let go of his hip, and moved in between his legs, taking a hold of his rock hard erection. Doflamingo pushed himself up into the touch, and the other began to jerk him off in a painfully slow rhythm. Was he teasing him? Did he want to hear him beg for it? He hated to admit it, but right now he would be more than willing to. Roci's thumb slid over the head, and Doflamingo bit back a moan, unsure of why. Rocinante began to move his hand a little faster, making sure to coat Doflamingo's dick with precum and someone's sweat. Doflamingo gave up on holding back the sounds, and just enjoyed the hot feeling of an orgasm building up in him. "Roci..." He tried to find the other's eyes, and the younger let him. Doflamingo grabbed his chin to pull him down for a kiss, but the other didn't let him. "Kiss me." Doflamingo tried to order, but it wasn't a order, it was a plead. "Kiss me, please." He added, and he hated to admit that he loved the ghost of a smirk that appeared on Rocinante's face.

Rocinante pulled out of him, and Doflamingo let out a disappointed sigh. It felt very weird now, to be so empty. Rocinante kneeled between his legs, before he licked his lips (maybe not on purpose), and then he leaned down, taking Doflamingo into his mouth without a second of hesitation. That was too much for the older Donquixote to handle, and he didn't even warn Rocinante before he came into his mouth. At least he didn't try to push his head down on his erection. Instead, Rocinante's name came as a ripped sound of his mouth, and he jerked upwards into the wet cave.

A few seconds later, Rocinante pulled away, and looked up at him. A trail of something pour out between his lips, which were pushed up into a way too satisfied smile. Doflamingo's breath was so heavy that he almost felt like he couldn't breathe at all.

His head was light for another full minute, which was spent just staring at Rocinante's grin or smirk or whatever that was. And then guilt hit him. So. Fucking. Hard.

How on earth had he managed to fall asleep on the cold floor? Most likely due to the emotional trainwreck he had been through. Doflamingo tried to gather his broken body up. A sharp pain shot through him and he couldn't help but whimper. Everything hurt, pretty much. He was cold, just like the light slipping through the curtains, giving the room a tired shade of gray. Rocinante was nowhere to be seen, and Doflamingo was kind of thankful for that. What was he supposed to say to him anyway? What kind of face should he make? And - what kind of expression would Roci show him?

He made another attempt at getting up, really wanting to crawl into his bed. Lying on the floor wasn't good for his back, or any other parts of his body for that matter. Sure enough, Doflamingo wasn't a coward when it came to pain, but he really couldn't move. Whenever he moved his legs his muscles screamed for him to stop. He dropped himself down the few inches he had been able to lift off the floor. There was a lot of dust under the bed, he noted. Why couldn't they have just moved to the bed? It was right there!

A shameful punch hit his stomach, and he felt sick. His merciless mind played the events of the night for him in excruciating detail. Down to every moan and every sharp breath. His face flushed, and even if it hurt, he covered his mouth.

"Shit..." He mumbled to himself. "Fuck."

The creaking of a door (the bathroom door) distracted him, and he was able to turn his head, to see Rocinante standing in the doorway. His hair was damp, but he was fully dressed. Doflamingo turned away too fast to read the expression on the scarred face. He could feel himself start to sweat, and he was certain that he was blushing deeper than Rocinante ever had.

Footsteps. Not light ones. Rocinante's feet moving towards him, and then a creaking sound as he knelt down.

"Go away." Doflamingo whispered, too flustered to raise his voice. He tried to move away when Rocinante put his arms around him. He let out a loud sound of protest as Rocinante pulled him up into a sitting position. Doflamingo had his back leaned against Rocinante's chest. He couldn't hear the heartbeat.

"Be careful. My body... Hurts." Doflamingo muttered behind his teeth. He didn't really think he had any pride left, so the words felt surprisingly little like a sacrifice. The younger trailed a light finger alongside his jawline. "We're going to hell." He mumbled.

Rocinante hugged him tighter, making Doflamingo hiss in pain, but he found that everything seemed just a tiny bit better. Not his body, but the mess in his head.

Maybe if they both had relented what they had done, and never seen each other again, they would've been able to go on with their lives. But Doflamingo knew that was a lie. Things weren't going to be easier. They had never been easy, and running away wouldn't stop this storm. The truth was that, despite the obvious discomforts he felt now, he didn't regret their night together at all. That made Doflamingo feel utterly disgusted with himself, but he didn't turn away. If this was the path, then so fucking be it.

He put a hand on his brother's wrist, digging fingers into the pale skin. Rocinante pulled him in even closer. God it was nice. The silence, and just the never spoken promise. A promise that said it was okay, even if it wasn't okay in any way.

Doflamingo couldn't help it.

He just loved Rocinante so much. So unbearably much. Perhaps his heart would break from it, and maybe Doflamingo wanted that.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Hopefully, it was just his imagination - the looks the neighbour gave him. Surely, the walls weren't _that _thin? Just the thought of that made him recall what had happened, and a very faint flush appeared on his face. At least, he hoped it was faint! Of course it was. Doflamingo wasn't a man who blushed.

It had taken Doflamingo almost a day before he was able to walk again. As embarrassing as it was, the pain really had been too bad for him to move.

Rocinante had behaved exemplary, and showed Doflamingo such devotion and care that he had never seen the like. Whether or not this was a silent apology, Doflamingo tried not to think about. Everytime he was thirsty or hungry, Rocinante would bring him something. He didn't even have to ask. Sure, his brother had always been caring, but this had been a different kind of caring. And Doflamingo wouldn't complain about it, because, truth be told - he had needed it.

But now, he was finally out of bed, and had gone to collect the mail. And, naturally, it was just his fucking luck that he had to run into one of the neighbours. Even if he had liked to think of himself as a people person, he knew that that wasn't true at all. Either the war had changed him, or it had just allowed him to realize his true colours. Well, right now he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for not wanting to talk to any of the neighbours, or anyone else for that matter.

The look she had given him last time, when she gave him some cookies, had been a friendly, welcoming look. It had clearly said 'welcome to the neighbourhood', and he had especially noted how she didn't even seem to care about the nasty injury to his eye. But now, when she looked at him, her eyes were uncertain, and... Judging.

No, no. There was no way she was suspicious. Who on earth could (regardless of any kinds of noises) suspect two grown men of being involved with each other? And surely, any such suspicions would've been dissolved on the account of the two of them being brothers. He was just being ridiculously paranoid. But, if she had heard them, what else could he think? In what other possible scenario would Doflamingo feel the need to moan _harder, faster_? Hopefully, she had a better imagination than him.

Doflamingo had to admit that the way she avoided his eyes, though yet stared at him, was very unpleasant. He greeted her with a very quick 'good day', before he retreated back to the apartment.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he found himself trapped in Rocinante's strong arms. He wondered if he would ever get used to the younger being more muscular than him. But then again, Doflamingo had no idea what his brother had been up to these past few years. He had certainly not been a teacher, like Doflamingo.

Was it okay that Rocinante embraced him like this, and held him like he was afraid he'd disappear? He didn't mind the touch, or the smell of the other, which he shamelessly breathed in, allowing himself to close his eyes for a short while. After what had happened, their relationship hadn't really changed that much. Rocinante had always been rather physical, even if Doflamingo noticed his touches more now. The biggest difference was the way Doflamingo's stomach did a backflip, and threatened to make him sick every time he realized how drawn he was to the other man. Even if Roci hadn't been his brother, it was still wrong for two men to be together, there was just no way around that fact.

He wondered if Rocinante felt the same way. Maybe his precious, little brother was too awkward to even understand the norms of society. No, he couldn't believe that, even for such a dense person. Rocinante had to think the same.

"Roci..." He began. He dragged out the name, and paused after saying it. He had began the same way many times, ever since he woke up on the floor. But every time he was going to say the words 'we can't do this', or 'this is wrong', he couldn't bring himself to. He didn't want his brother to leave.

He began to think about the life they had had back in England, before the war. He remembered how little Rocinante had spoken. The words he said in a day could often be counted on one hand. And now, he thought that maybe he understood. That words didn't make anything easier, and that they weren't really necessary. If he didn't speak, then he didn't have to justify his actions with words. Maybe they could just be together, without having to talk about it. Oh, what a liberating, beautiful idea that was.

It it was a dream, and Doflamingo let himself dream it as he rested in his brother's arms, letting his eyes slide shut once more.

But he had to awaken, or he was insane. Even if he had just declared words as his enemy, he still spoke.

"You realize we really can't... Do this, right?" Right after he had said that, he looked at Rocinante, to see his reaction. He never thought the mute was easy to read, but he would still try. There was no reaction, pretty much. Not on his face at least. The only thing that happened was that Rocinante wrapped his arms tighter around him, and pushed him into a crushing hug, and once again Doflamingo was trapped in the cage of the other's embrace.

And Doflamingo was a bird, so he had to fly. He didn't belong in a cage.

Or maybe he did? If the cage was summer itself,.

"Roci, listen to me. Don't make this more difficult than it already is. We're brothers, we're both men, there is no way..." His voice died down. He couldn't justify his feelings for Rocinante, no matter how much he wanted to. They were _wrong_, and nothing could change that.

Rocinante released him a little, just enough for them to look at each other. The scars on the other's face made it appear like he was smiling, but Doflamingo could see that he had a serious look. Rocinante moved his lips, very slowly, and it took Doflamingo a second to understand that he was trying to form words. He tried to read them, but couldn't. Rocinante repeated them.

The confused look Doflamingo showed, made it clear that he didn't understand. So Rocinante repeated them again, and again, and again.

And then - Doflamingo understood. And when he did, he closed the distance between them, and kissed the other. His mouth was shaking against the other's, and the voice in the back of his head wouldn't die out. Wrong, it said. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

But he had understood Rocinante's words.

_ I _

_ love_

_ you_

What a silly thing to say. Doflamingo could've said that a million times, and it wouldn't make this right. Love wasn't an excuse.

"I love you too." Doflamingo said as he pulled back from the kiss. "I love you so much that it's going to kill me." He truly believed that. Not only did he believe it, he was hoping for it too. He couldn't see how he could enjoy a life where he was constantly being suffocated by guilt. "I want to die." He admitted, very silently. Almost too silent for Rocinante to hear, but there was no way his brother would ever miss a message like that. A new kiss was placed on his lips, and his mouth pushed open, before a hungry tongue invaded his mouth.

Why wasn't this difficult for Rocinante? Why couldn't he just back off? Why couldn't he _understand _that this couldn't work?

He kissed the other back, wanting to drown himself in the kiss and the sweet taste of Rocinante. When the younger brother pulled away, he followed, forcing the kiss to last a lifetime longer. "I want to die." Doflamingo said again, and was silenced right away by a kiss. The younger pushed him up against the wall, and he let the letters he was holding fall to the floor. "Let me die." He whispered as soon as his mouth was freed.

They slid down the wall, and ended up on the floor among the letters. "I want to die." He repeated, and Rocinante kissed him again. Begging, that was what the kiss was. Begging for him not to say it again. "This is going to kill me, Roci." His voice was barely even there, and yet the words were so strong. Maybe that was because he meant them.

He let his fingers slide over Rocinante's scarred back. He didn't think he had ever seen so many scars on a body before, and he wondered how he had gotten them. Of course, that was just a thought to distract himself. He had been lying awake for hours already, and had come to a conclusion. Not only that. It was also a solution. With this, he could fix all his problems.

He had decided that he had lost his mind. He was _insane_. Loving his brother, and wanting to be with him in this way? If that wasn't mental illness then he didn't know what was. But, if he was sick, then he could get help. There were hospitals, doctors, medicine. There had to be, right? And if he could be fixed, then there would be no need for him to die. One thing was for sure - he couldn't keep on living like this.

Of course, he was scared out of his mind for what he was going to do, but he also knew that it was the right thing to do. He was ill, and needed help. Sure, it was unfair to not get Rocinante some treatment too, but his little brother had always been messed up. And this was Doflamingo's life, and he had to repair it as best he could.

Was this a rushed decision? Yes, it was. But that was just because Doflamingo was afraid.

He didn't sleep at all that night. He just lay there, caressing the other's back, and sometimes his messy hair. His fingertips learned the patterns of every scar Rocinante was decorated with. The soft breath was calming, and only made his reasoning seem that much better.

As the cold light of morning filled the room, Doflamingo stood up and got dressed. He had to battle the want to wake Rocinante up, and have him, just one more time and then never again. But he didn't need to feed his illness any more than he already had. Enough was enough.

He said nothing. Did nothing. And then he left the apartment, and Rocinante's life.

His steps were slow, yet determined. The air was filled with a smell he couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe that was because his eyes were distracting him with the terrifying sight in front of him. The building was tall, and made of red brick that reminded Doflamingo of dried up blood in a very unpleasant way. It was a grand piece of architecture none the less, even if the windows were small. Maybe that was why Doflamingo thought of it as a prison right away.

His resolve faltered for a moment, when he read the sign above the front door. But this was the only way, and he knew that this was the right thing to do. He didn't have a choice. It was this or death, he knew it.

He knew it.

The sound of his shoes against the grit was odd, somewhat otherworldly, even if he had heard it a million times before. Was it because he was heading for a new life? Or was it something trying to call him out of this insane idea. But this idea wasn't insane. It was, in fact, the only sane thing Doflamingo had done in weeks.

The door was heavy. Why did they make a heavy door for such a place? Was it to keep people from coming, or leaving? Was it a final test to see who belonged here and who didn't? It didn't matter.

_Nothing matters, _Doflamingo thought as he entered "_Riese's Hospital for the Insane_".


End file.
